


et tu

by broniichan



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Homophobia, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, loosely based off of you've got mail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broniichan/pseuds/broniichan
Summary: Do you ever have those days where absolutely nothing goes the way you want it to?In which Rin has nothing to distract from his dented bike, his family’s crumbling restaurant, and the corporate asshole trying to buy off their restaurant but some guy he’s been talking to on an anonymous dating app.Shame that some guy and corporate asshole happen to be the same person.





	1. corporate conscience

The only upside to arriving at work at 5:30 in the morning is wholly bypassing the horror of the rush hour. Or that would be the upside, if Rin took the train.

Instead, still in the process of waking up, he coasts down the bike lane in pre-sunrise darkness, wincing as headlights from passing cars glare at him. He forgot to check the weather before leaving his apartment so his long sleeve zip-up is insufficient against the permanent chill and the swoosh of wind.

Rin turns the corner. A small, dark shape darts out in front of him.

Hissing a swear, he jerks the handlebars, bumping over the sidewalk and careening toward a building. Back when he was a kid, his dad taught him how to fall, since a broken bike is an easier fix than a broken bone, but Rin’s never been particularly good at accepting the fall and letting the bike go. But, that’s exactly what he does now, awkwardly tumbling off and letting the bike clatter into the wall.

Adrenaline surging, he takes a moment to find his footing and breathe, mentally scouring his body for injuries. Nothing urgent, so he picks up his bike. No evidence of any damage there either. He glances to the other side of the street; on the opposite sidewalk, a tabby cat sits and licks its paw, oblivious.

Rin clicks his tongue and sets off again.

The sky is only a margin lighter and there are a handful of cars on the streets by the time Rin arrives at the restaurant without any other incidents. He parks his bike and roots around for his keys. In the dark they remain elusive and he begins to panic, hand pawing through his backpack, only to finally hear a jingle from the pocket in his backpack.

Yawning, he unlocks the main entrance and steps into the dark. He leaves the main lights off and instead slips into the back, ducking into the bathroom and changing into his uniform under a single buzzing fluorescent.

It’s peaceful, prepping the kitchen alone. Plenty of busywork to lull him. He only catches a snippet of the outside world in passing through the seating area, where the street is lighter and more cars rumble past through the window. Now calm, he senses an ache above his knee from the handlebars in his bike crash.

The clock on the wall reads 7:43 when the front door unlocks.

His mom calls out, “Good morning!”

“Morning,” he says back.

She disappears into the bathroom and reappears with her version of the uniform (red where his is white). Tying up her long hair into a tight bun, she scans over the status of the kitchen. “How are we this morning?”

Focused on preparing some of the vegetables, Rin says, “Mm.”

“ _Rin._ ”

“Huh? Oh, uh, fine.” He pauses, hands slick with sauce. “A cat nearly killed me earlier.”

“A cat?”

“It ran out in front of my bike when there was _no one_ else on the street. It could have just waited to cross the road, but no.”

His mom checks underneath one of the grills. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Rin says, leaning over the vegetables again and mixing them around. He doesn’t mention the ache above his knee.

The two of them settle into comfortable silence as they tick off duties for the day.

“Oh, what time is Ai-kun coming in today?” his mom asks.

“I think he said around lunchtime?”

“Ah.” She shuts the fridge door. “Oh, so he’ll be at the front when you have that… Meeting, was it?”

Rin swallows. “Yeah.”

“What time is that?”

 _2:30,_ Rin’s mind supplies, but he says, “Oh, I forget when exactly. I’ll have to check the email.”

“Ah.”

Together, they get the whole restaurant up and running to open at eleven, the sun coming in bright from the moderately busy street outside. Nevertheless, and despite the supposed lunch rush, only a couple of stragglers wander in, so the two of them (Rin at the counter taking orders and his mother in the back preparing them) aren’t overloaded. They’re even less pressed once Ai arrives around noon and takes the front counter, allowing Rin to snag a small lunch and turn to fixing random things around the restaurant. The aroma of frying things hangs as the pace slows even more after lunchtime.

Only a couple of people remain by the time 2:20 rolls around. Rin, restless, comes out to the front, needlessly sweeping the immaculate floor and checking his watch everyone ten seconds. 2:30. 2:37. 2:42. Just an old man at the tables.

A crash in the kitchen.

“Rin!” his mom calls. “Can you help a sec?”

“Yeah!” He props the broom to the wall and rushes to the back. “What?”

Standing over the fryer, she wordlessly gestures to a spilled jug of oil behind her. “Broke when it landed, I guess.”

Rin plucks up the split jug, the remaining oil sloshing out onto the front of his uniform. “Eugh.” He sighs, looking at the yellowish patch on the front of his jacket before chucking the jug away. He ducks into the cleaning supplies for a mop and checks his watch as he goes. 2:48.

Rin mops up the oil on the floor best he can with a specific cleaner, but there’s still a bit of a dangerous sheen so he tells his mom and Ai to be careful walking through. When done, he washes his hands and tries to scrub out the yellowish patch of oil on the front of his uniform with a washcloth, but the patch doesn’t budge.

“Rin-senpai?” Ai’s voice calls from the counter. “Um, someone from Wakana Tempura is here…?”

“Fuck,” Rin says under his breath, tossing aside the washcloth. He weaves through the kitchen to storm out to the counter.

On the other side stands a guy, a few inches taller than Rin with short dark hair and pale blue eyes in a dark suit probably more expensive than Rin’s apartment. Nothing registers in his expression, but his eyes flicker down to the stain on Rin’s uniform.

Rin lifts his chin. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” the guy says, disinterestedly. “The train got delayed.”

Rin waits.

A beat of silence.

“Well.” The guy shifts his weight. “I’m Yamazaki Sousuke, representing Wakana. I’m here to talk to…” He pulls out a folder and scans over a file. “Matsuoka Miyako?”

“You can talk to me. I’m Matsuoka Rin, her son.”

Yamazaki frowns. “But she’s the owner?”

“Yes, but I’m the one who handles finances.”

“Oh, yoohoo!” Rin’s mom calls, sliding into view from the tiny kitchen window. Rin’s insides clench. “I’m Matsuoka Miyako! It’s better you talk to Rin than me, I just cook. Him and his sister got the brains for math.”

“Ah, well…” Yamazaki’s eyes slide back to Rin. He gestures to the seats behind. “Should we sit?”

“Fine.” Stepping out from the counter, Rin follows to sit opposite Yamazaki at a table out of earshot of the old guy left.

“So…” Yamazaki furrows his brow, rifling through his files until he finds what he’s looking for. “I’m not sure how to proceed with this, but it’s probably a good thing you all contacted us now, because looking through the files you sent, it looks like your restaurant won’t last more than another year or two.”

Rin sinks back into his seat, arms folded tight over his chest.

“Just looking at your expenditures for the past month alone…” He rattles through everything Rin already knows. “…with that low of a profit.” Glancing up from the documents, he pauses. “You do understand, yes?”

“ _Yes,_ I understand.”

Yamazaki keeps his gaze. “Just checking.” He slides the document back into the folder. “That aside, we at Wakana need to do more research and discuss it amongst ourselves before we can buy this place. This is a new thing for the company, because while we’re a chain, we’ve never merged with an outside location, so we want to make sure this will be beneficial for us as well.” He clasps his hands. “Just so I know, have you done any sort of advertising? It wasn’t on the expense report.”

“Yes,” Rin says. “My sister made a website herself, so there weren’t any expenditures.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t really have the funds for anything else, so.”

“Hm.” A twitch of Yamazaki’s mouth, almost in amusement. “I’m amazed you all lasted this long with only a website.”

“Well. We have a good reputation around here, so we have good word of mouth.”

“Still.” Yamazaki scratches his forehead and scans over his documents again before saying, “Well, as I said, we still need to do some internal work before we commit, but if we do, you should be aware of what to expect. You can most likely keep most of your menu as long as you add a couple of our key dishes, but the name will probably have to change. Matsuoka is too much like Matsuya, you need something more distinctive.”

The red characters he’s seen a million times out front flash in Rin’s mind.

“Also, you would likely have to change the location too.”

“What?” Rin sits up, innards twisting. “But I just said we have good word of mouth here—”

“Yes, but this particular area doesn’t look like it’s getting a lot of traffic these days. Also, the space itself is too small. Since the items on your menu aren’t easily transportable, you’re limiting your customers by how many seats there are in here.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Rin sits back, rigid.

Yamazaki cocks his head. “If we want to make this work, you have to agree to these potential changes, so is what I’ve explained okay?”

Rin raises a shoulder. “I guess.”

“I need a real answer.”

“ _Yes._ ”

Yamazaki studies him a breath. “Oh, while I’m here—” He drops his folder into a glossy briefcase, and clicking it shut, he stands. “I should try something on your menu, just to make sure it’s at least somewhat close to our standards.”

Reluctantly, Rin stands as well, trailing Yamazaki as he heads back to Ai at the counter. “They let you decide whether it’s good enough or not?” Rin asks before he can stop himself.

“I have high standards.”

“Well, you’re still a chain.”

Yamazaki’s jaw twitches, but he pointedly focuses on the chalkboard menu hung up behind Ai.

“Um…” Ai’s eyes flicker between Yamazaki, reading the menu, and Rin, standing aside. “What can I get for you?”

“Anything you recommend?” Yamazaki asks Rin without lifting his head.

Curt, Rin says, “I’d recommend anything.”

Yamazaki mulls over it for another moment before finally looking at Ai. “Then, I’ll have the shrimp donburi.”

Ai accepts his payment and slips a sheet back to Rin’s mom, who chirps, “On it!”

Things hiss and clatter from the kitchen as they wait; Ai stands perfectly still at the counter, Rin stands with arms crossed, and Yamazaki slowly paces a small circle.

“Here you go!” says Rin’s mom, and a steaming bowl slides out.

Ai presents it for Yamazaki with a pair of chopsticks.

“Thanks.” Picking it up with careful hands, Yamazaki carries it over to the nearest seat and sits down. Rin watches him blow away steam before taking a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, Yamazaki blinks. “Wait, this is actually really good.”

Biting down _Why do you sound so surprised,_ Rin settles for, “I know.”

Yamazaki ignores him and continues to eat, quickly finishing the whole bowl without another word. Instead of placing it at the dish return area, he carries the bowl himself back to the counter and speaks at the small window. “This is really good. Thank you so much.”

Rin’s mom pokes her head out. “Is it? I’m so glad, thank you!” She takes the bowl from his outstretched hand with a broad smile. “Come again!”

Nodding, Yamazaki faces Rin again. “Well… I guess that’s that.”

“We passed your test, then?”

“Like I said, we’ll be looking into this on our own, but expect to be contacted again.” Almost lazily, he scans Rin once over, pausing as if to say something.

But Yamazaki turns away, and just before stepping outside, he says, “Have a good day.”

The door thunks shut.

Rooted where he is, Rin watches him vanish down the street, a boiling in the pit of his stomach.

“He seems nice,” his mom says.

He can only grunt in response, whipping around and heading back into the kitchen. Passing by his mom washing dishes, he slips on the forgotten oil residue, landing on hard concrete.

“Rin! Are you okay?” His mom drops a sponge and scrambles to help him up by his arms.

Wincing, Rin jerks himself out of her grip, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He shakes it off and pushes further into the back to stuff himself into the tight office with no windows.

He flicks on the overhead. The room sits in shades of beige, a single desk with invoices awaiting him. On the wall, a framed picture of the four of them before the accident. Gou, still a little lanky then, has no scar from a glass shard over her eyebrow yet. Rin stood shorter than his dad then, but now he knows they’re the same height.

Sighing, he plops down on the squeaky rolling chair he’s been forgetting to oil down, instantly regretting it with the sharp pain from his sit bones. He decides against sitting and scoops up the invoices in his arms and shoves a pen behind his ear for safekeeping, lugging everything to the storage refrigerator to cross check the new orders. Item by item, quantity by quantity, he slowly makes his way through the lists, stumbling on an entirely lost shipment of cabbage and a half fulfilled shipment of crab. He makes a note to have a chat with their distributor.

Once done, he returns to the desk, still aching somewhat, and stares at their expenses, willing them to fix themselves. His phone buzzes, jolting him out of a stupor.

 **Makoto:** **How did your meeting go?**

Rin considers leaving him on read, but dropping his pen, he reluctantly types.

 **You:** **Fine. Kinda boring**

A moment later—

 **Makoto:** **I guess that’s better than terrible (￣ω￣;)**

 **Makoto:** **Oh by the way I saw Kou-chan leaving campus and she said she didn’t know anything about your meeting? So she told me to tell you to prepare yourself for some strong words when she shows up for her shift**

Rin runs a hand through his hair.

 **You:** **Great**

 **Makoto:** **If she kills you, just let me know**

 **You:** **Shut up**

 **Makoto:** **(･ω <)☆**

Rin locks his phone and barely has five minutes to himself before as if summoned, there’s a light knock at the door.

“I heard something _very_ interesting from Makoto-kun,” says Gou as she bursts in, dropping her backpack to the floor, which lands with a thunk appropriate for multiple weighty textbooks. She puts her hands on her hips. “Apparently you were supposed to meet with someone from Wakana today, which is the first _I’ve_ heard.”

“Sorry,” Rin says. “He could only meet during when you have class.”

“Okay, but you still could have told me.” She frowns at him, scar pink over her eyebrow. “I’m just surprised.”

He shrugs, focusing back at the expense report to avoid her eyes. “I guess I forgot to tell you. Sorry.”

“Eh, whatever. Just invite me next time, okay?” She nudges him in the shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“You look terrible. Was it that bad?”

“No, I’m just tired.” The full impact of her comment hits him a moment late, and he glowers. “Hey—”

Gou grins. “So what’d you talk about?”

He relays the bare bones: still undecided, complete overhaul of the restaurant.

Nodding, Gou puts her uniform jacket on over her t-shirt and tugs her hair into a ponytail. “Well, it’s a change, at least,” she says, gently.

Rin nods. He fiddles with his pen.

Once all ready, she winks at him. “Well, I’m off to the front. If you start feeling bored and lonely in here, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The door thuds shut after her, and it’s him, the expenses, the pen, the ache in his ass, and the photograph on the wall once more. At a point of reckless boredom around 8:34, he sneaks a look into Gou’s backpack, guiltily prying out a business textbook and flicking through some pages. It’s not as interesting as he hoped, and with disappointment settling in his chest, he quickly replaces the textbook and zips the backpack back up as if nothing happened.

He slogs through the rest few hours without visiting Gou at the front once, and when they close up at ten, he ditches the unchanged expense reports and helps his mom clean up the kitchen while Gou cleans up the front area. It’s just the three of them; Ai left mid-evening.

Up to their elbows in soap, he and his mom don’t speak much as they wash dishes.

“So, you think that arrangement with Wakana will work?” she asks, drying the plate he hands off to her.

Head down, Rin scrubs at a stubborn stain. “I don’t know.”

“Mm.” She waits patiently for him to rinse it. “Well, I hope it does.”

He scrubs a new plate, puffy suds spilling over his hands.

When the kitchen is clean and everything needed for tomorrow is prepared, the three of them pack up, one by one changing out of their uniforms. Gou goes second after their mom and takes an entire fifteen minutes, Rin knocking on the door and complaining outside.

She smiles at him as she exits. “Later.”

Rin’s mom waits for him to finish changing and step out of the bathroom before slinging her purse over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow morning,” she says with a wave, hair loose around her shoulders. “Sleep well, okay?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The door shuts after her.

With a final sweeping inspection of the storage, the office, the kitchen, the seating area, Rin flicks off all the lights and steps out. The chill invades through his zip-up again. Looking up at the now un-lit sign over the restaurant, he doesn’t move, propping up the bike with one foot on the ground and one on the pedal. He tears his eyes from the characters and sets off.

Now there are more cars and pedestrians, so he’s more vigilant than before, slowing at corners and ignoring bright, colorful lights. Riding is barely tolerable with his aching ass, every little bump and bobble making him want to pull over, but he grits his teeth and keeps ahead.

A rumble of thunder, and rain begins to fall. Rin squints as drops flatten his hair and drip over his face. Puddles form on patches of concrete, splashing his ankles, and he shivers with wetness seeping through his clothes. He pedals faster.

Someone darts across the bike lane. He squeezes the brake, barely skittering to a stop without tumbling again as some businessman holding a newspaper over his head rushes through oncoming traffic to reach the other side of the street.

Stopped, Rin shoots an invisible glare at the businessman before pushing off again.

He arrives at his apartment building drenched, and hands numb, he quickly parks his bike and locks it. The outside security light bears down on him, illuminating a missed scrape in his bike’s paint job. He runs his fingers over it, and even with the slickness of the rain, he can feel a dent.

 _Great,_ he thinks. _Stupid cat._

Rin hops up the stairs, two at a time, shoes squelching the whole way to door 309. His apartment is dark, silent. He leaves his soaked sneakers at the door and pads across the wood in damp socks, turning on lights to warm the little place as he goes. Discarding his dripping clothes, he takes a hot shower, trying to wash away the day (difficult, after noticing the blue-ish bruise just above his knee from the crash earlier), and afterwards makes a quick meal with shrimp, rice, and some vegetables.

Sat at his puny table, Rin chews on his meal and opens up his phone. There are texts from Makoto, Ai, and Gou, but right now, they’re all too close for comfort, so he ignores them. Instead, he scrolls through his apps to eventually land on one with a rainbow heart logo. He touches it.

The loading screen pops up.

**_SOUL ONLY_ **

Rin had discovered _Soul Only_ with Makoto while the two of them browsed dating apps as a joke.

Makoto chuckled. “I don’t know if you’d be able to survive on this one,” he said.

“What? Why?”

Makoto read out, “‘ _Soul Only:_ A gay dating app to remove the superficial and status driven elements of social media. Talk to people one hundred percent anonymously and base your opinions of them on what they have to say, not how attractive they are.’”

Rin put his hands on his hips. “And _why_ would I not be able to survive?”

“Well… You do like to share photos of yourself… And judge other people’s photos…”

“So? It’s not like I’m shallow.”

“Uh huh.” Makoto scrolled past it.

Rin watched him scroll on with mouth parted. “You know what—” He whipped out his phone, searched his app store, and selected _Download_ before Makoto had a chance to say anything. “I’ll prove to you that I can survive.”

Smiling faintly, Makoto said, “Okay.”

Proving this proved more difficult than Rin would ever admit to; he really did miss judging guys by their pictures and having people compliment him, and this newfound knowledge of how truly shallow he was did not sit well at first. Also, while the app creators likely had good intentions, the anonymity allowed weirdness to breed. Rin once received a message that read, **Can I pound your ass with a jackhammer?** to which he replied, **You’re going to have to work harder than that for this ass.**

In all, Rin only lasted maybe a week before considering deleting the app, but refusing to let Makoto win, he forced himself to last for about a month. On a random day he scrolled through potential profiles out of obligation, reading bios. After about the fourth daddy kink profile and the third furry profile, his thumb itched to go to settings and select _Delete Account,_ but he braved onward. The following profile didn’t seem particularly noteworthy.

**Negi (6 km away)**

**I like dogs and food. I haven’t really used dating apps before so I don’t know what else to say.**

Overwhelmed with relief over something boring and normal, Rin liked the profile.

A heart popped up. **A MATCH!**

Nothing immediately came of it, so Rin forgot about it for a week or two until he met up with Makoto for lunch.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Makoto set down his glass of water, a conspiratorial crook in his smile. “Are you still using that anonymous app?”

“Yeah.” For believability Rin tacked on, “I’ve been talking to someone.”

“Really?”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Rin took a bite of his sandwich. “His name is Negi.”

“Negi.”

“ _What?_ ”

Shrugging and readjusting his glasses, Makoto said, “Oh, I don’t know… That’s an awfully random name to have.”

Rin dropped his sandwich and pulled out his phone, shoving proof of Negi’s profile into Makoto’s face.

“Oh. Huh.” Makoto raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like an… interesting person.”

Locking the screen, Rin sighed. “Shut up.”

Later, Rin sent a message, just to say he tried.

 **Sakura:** **What’s up with your username? “Onion”?**

Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed.

 **Negi:** **Well what’s up with your username?**

 **Sakura:** **Hey I asked first**

 **Sakura:** **And cherry blossoms are a normal thing to like**

 **Negi:** **Everyone should like onions**

 **Negi:** **I just like them a lot**

 **Sakura:** **That’s weird dude**

 **Negi:** **I didn’t say it wasn’t**

 **Negi:** **So are you going to answer why your username is Sakura**

 **Sakura:** **I thought it was implied that everyone likes cherry blossoms**

 **Negi:** **They give me allergies**

 **Sakura:** **Fine, everyone except you**

 **Sakura:** **Whatever, they’re pretty I guess**

 **Negi:** **I see**

 **Negi:** **Mind if I ask what brings you to this app?**

 **Sakura:** **Well**

 **Sakura:** **My friend thought I wouldn’t be able to handle a dating app where I couldn’t judge people’s pictures and share pictures of myself so I’m here to prove him wrong**

 **Negi:** **Is he wrong?**

 **Sakura:** **………No**

 **Sakura:** **But he doesn’t need to know that**

 **Negi:** **Someone sounds stubborn**

 **Sakura:** **Maybe**

 **Sakura:** **Why are you here?**

 **Negi:** **Well**

 **Negi:** **I’ve always liked girls but liking guys is a new thing for me, so I’m trying to get comfortable with it. It’s not something I can be open about in real life yet**

 **Sakura:** **Oh damn, yeah**

 **Sakura:** **I know that’s tough**

 **Negi:** **Yeah I already know some family members who would not be cool with it, so I just plan to never tell them**

 **Sakura:** **Yeah I understand**

 **Sakura:** **Even though my mom is cool with it, it still took me forever to tell her, and even now we don’t really talk about it**

 **Sakura:** **My dad died before I could tell him**

 **Sakura:** **Shit**

**Sakura:** **that was a lot sorry I don’t know why I brought that up**

 **Negi:** **Don’t worry about it**

**Negi:** **I’m sorry about your dad**

 **Sakura:** **Thanks**

 **Sakura:** **I think this is the first somewhat genuine conversation I’ve had on here**

 **Negi:** **That’s sad, considering the purpose of this app**

 **Sakura:** **Hah yeah**

 **Sakura:** **Anyway**

 **Sakura:** **Got any weird stories from people on here?**

After that, bit by bit, they continued talking, and Rin compiled random bits of information about Negi: he’s originally from Nagano and moved to Tokyo for college, twenty-six, does something in finance at a company he didn’t share the specifics of, has weird and frankly unhealthy obsessions with both onions and the American basketball player Michael Jordan. Bit by bit, Rin revealed pieces of himself as well, and his conversations with other guys dwindled until he now only ever talks with Negi. Neither talks about the specifics of their jobs or where in Tokyo they live, but somehow, it’s been three months since they started talking; a lifetime for a trashy dating app.

Swallowing a bite of carrot, Rin skims over the last bit of their conversation from yesterday, where Negi was complaining about his one coworker. Rin sits, thinks, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He begins to type.

**Do you ever have those days where absolutely nothing goes the way you want it to?**

He presses send.

* * *

Approximately six kilometers away, Yamazaki Sousuke sits on a park bench, watching city lights reflected on rippling lake water. Voices murmur from around him as people meander around the park.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He reads the message and almost laughs to himself, immediately typing a response.

**Damn how did you read my mind**

A moment of stillness. The typing bubble pops up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hit me with your best shot - pat benatar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5kisPBwZOM)
> 
> haha throwback to when i thought i could wait to start a new multichap until after i finished anthropocene 
> 
> the floor is open to anyone who wants to roast me for the title 
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	2. locked and loaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sousuke fought the law and the law won

Sousuke hates the train at all times, but he hates it especially now, 7:32 in the morning, when he’s squashed between an old businessman who definitely did not brush his teeth before leaving this morning and some young woman blasting heavy metal through her headphones. The train curves around the track and the weight of ten people press into him from one side, forcing him to lean into the old businessman. Sousuke closes his mouth and holds his breath.

The half hour trip from his apartment in Kichijoji to Wakana’s headquarters in Marunouchi feels like lifetimes when Sousuke is still half-asleep. Technically, he could skip the rush by waking up earlier, but he struggles to rise to his four alarms anyway, so the likelihood of him getting out of the apartment any time before seven is absolutely unthinkable.

The stop at Shinjuku Station allows a brief moment of air as a huge crowd of people get off, only to be instantly replaced with a different crowd boarding. The old man is somehow still beside Sousuke. Finally, he hears the automated voice announce Tokyo Station overhead, and the train rumbles to a stop. People spill out the open doors, some people jostling and pushing their way past to get ahead, but Sousuke rides with the traffic to onto the platform and down to the bottom floor. He swipes his way out into thin, post-rain sunlight and walks the last leg of his journey by himself, skyscrapers everywhere around him.

Beside some crisp green trees rests Wakana Restaurant’s headquarters, a silver building several stories shorter than the firm beside it. Sousuke passes through the glass doors and shows his employee ID card at the desk. Other people file in, mumbling “Good morning,” and “Hello, Yamazaki-kun,” as they pass him.

He squeezes into the elevator and instead of heading for his office in the financial sector on the second floor, he heads up to sales on the third floor. Weaving through the maze of cubicles abuzz with ringing phones and conversations, he catches a whiff of distant coffee and already dreams of his first cup.

Finally, he finds the cubicle labeled _MIKOSHIBA_ and enters, unsurprised it’s empty and evidently unused this morning. He takes a seat at the desk chair and begins the wait.

Bored as the minutes lag on, he scans the desk; pasted to the wall is a calendar featuring cutesy idol girls wearing rabbit costumes. Sousuke feels itchy just looking at it.

Quick footsteps, and Mikoshiba Momotarou bursts in, hair wild and red tie crooked. He jerks to a stop, eyes widening in horror. “Y-Yamazaki-senpai!”

Sousuke makes a show of checking his watch. 8:25. “Care to explain where you were yesterday?”

“U-Um…” Momo scratches his neck. “Well, yesterday my favorite group had a meet and my favorite, Riho, has been out with an injury for a while and it was her first time back with the group, so I—”

“Okay, got it,” Sousuke sighs, rubbing his forehead. “You do remember you were assigned that Matsuoka Tempura place, right? With Nanase?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah! I mean, I remember it _now_ —”

“Well, since neither of you showed up, _I_ had to do the meeting yesterday.”

Momo dips his head. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Look, just don’t make it a habit like Nanase,” Sousuke says, standing and picking up his briefcase.

Momo nods, weakly.

Sousuke heads for the doorway and Momo immediately scoots out of the way, but Sousuke pauses, softening his tone. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “We’re still on for tonight.”

Relaxing somewhat, Momo smiles. “Oh, okay! See you later, then!”

Leaving him to his cubicle and calendar, Sousuke takes the stairs down to the much quieter second floor and finds his office. He dumps his briefcase and goes in search of the coffee machine, finding a line he has to wait in for five minutes, but it’s worth it for the piping hot coffee. It’s not even particularly good coffee, but he’ll take what he can get.

Sousuke sinks into his office chair and nurses his coffee with eyes shut, blotting out yesterday’s fresh wound of helplessly wandering the streets trying to find Matsuoka Tempura and making himself late. He’s successful in tamping the memory down only until around an hour later, when his landline beeps in the middle of some paperwork.

His dad’s voice. “Are you in the middle of anything? Could you swing by my office?”

“Yeah, I can be there in five minutes.”

“Thanks. Oh—find Haruka and bring the files for that Matsuoka place.”

Sousuke’s insides curl. “Yes.”

His dad hangs up.

Sousuke chugs the dregs of his cold coffee and crumples up the cup, chucking it into combustibles. Without glancing a second time at the Matsuoka files, he scoops them out of his briefcase and takes the elevator to the fourth floor. He scans the offices and knocks at the one with the nameplate _NANASE,_ but with no answer, he turns to the woman making copies.

“Have you seen Nanase?”

“Hm?” She looks up as she presses a button, processing the question. “Oh, no, not yet. He wasn’t at the meeting earlier.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Insides still knotted, Sousuke reboards the elevator up to the top floor, stepping out into a long, carpeted hallway quiet but for dim murmurs in meeting rooms.

As always, there are meetings shut to him, and as he passes by, he spots Mikoshiba Seijuurou through the glass window of one meeting room. Seijuurou doesn’t notice him, intently taking notes as the woman beside him addresses the room.

Finally, Sousuke reaches the end of the hall, with two equally imposing mahogany doors facing him. They both say _CO-CEO_ , but one nameplate reads _MIKOSHIBA HIDENORI_ and the other _YAMAZAKI IWAO_.

Sousuke knocks on his dad’s door.

“Come in.”

His dad sits hunched as his desk, frowning over something on the desktop before him. He doesn’t look up as Sousuke enters and shuts the door behind him, and it’s only when Sousuke takes a seat that he glances up.

His dad’s dark hair is streaked with gray, and lines etch a permanent frown between his eyebrows. He squints. “Where’s your brother?”

Swallowing down _He’s not my brother_ , Sousuke settles for, “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” His dad sits back and looks at him squarely. “Well, we’ll talk anyway. So, what did you think of the Matsuoka place?”

“The food is good,” Sousuke manages.

“That it?”

“Well, we’d have to change a lot there, but I went made some estimations yesterday after the meeting and it wouldn’t be too expensive for us to buy them out and develop a new space. Especially if they start doing better after our upgrades.”

His dad nods, slowly. “In that case, I think we should try to go through with it. Expand our reach. Write up a report on it so Hidenori and I can look over it and confirm.”

“Okay.”

“And if we continue with it, I want you to stay a part of the process.”

“But—”

“You’ve already done a lot of the work, and since you met with them, the people there already know you, right?”

Sousuke clamps his mouth shut, stomach sinking.

“Maybe ditch the youngest Mikoshiba,” his dad mulls. “He’s a bit of a wild card. Haruka can continue to work with you, though.”

Sousuke’s fingers curl around the folder of files. “Okay.”

A knock at the door.

“Just a second!” Sousuke’s dad reaches over and taps the folder in Sousuke’s hands. “You hold onto those; I trust you with them.”

Nodding, Sousuke stands and backs out. He opens the door, finding a familiar woman with dark hair and blue eyes looking up at him.

“Oh, hi, Sousuke-kun!” Nanase Shoko chirps, smiling.

He smiles. “Hello, Nanase-san.”

She whacks his shoulder. “I’ve told you, there’s no need to be so formal.” Wedging past him, she approaches his dad and leans over the desk to place a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, that reminds me!” she says before Sousuke can leave. “Have you seen Haruka around? I checked his office, but he wasn’t there.”

Sousuke stops outside the door. “No, I haven’t seen him.”

“Oh, well… See you around, then!”

He leaves with a fleeting look at the two of them over his shoulder and takes the elevator back down to his office. Standing just inside the door, he stares at the desk in stillness. He slaps down the folder and steps back out to the coffee machine. This time there’s no line, so he returns with another steaming cup within moments.

Door shut, Sousuke settles at his desk, letting the coffee warm his hands. With an exhale, he slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, ignoring his emails and texts and selecting the icon of a rainbow heart.

Sousuke doesn’t have much dating app experience to go off of, but from what he gathers, sustaining a conversation with someone whose name, appearance, and life are unknown to him for longer than two days is something of a miracle. He only knows small things about Sakura (he’s twenty-two, works at his family’s business, overflowing with emotion and an easy target for teasing), but he never feels like he has to try with him, which is something he’s never felt, not with anyone else on _Soul Only,_ nor any of his previous (limited) romantic escapades.

He opens the unread messages.

**Sakura:** **I decided to rewatch Your Name last night because of how shitty yesterday was**

**Sakura:** **It didn’t work**

**Negi:** **Isn’t that the tearjerker romance?**

**Sakura:** **it’s a GOOD movie**

**Negi:** **I didn’t say it wasn’t**

**Sakura:** **Look it’s really good and you should watch it**

**Negi:** **Did you cry again?**

**Sakura:** **No I did not and also that’s irrelevant, what’s relevant is that even it couldn’t make me feel better**

**Sakura:** **And then I stayed up too late watching it so getting up this morning was ass**

**Negi:** **Yeah today’s been bad too and it’s not even lunchtime**

**Negi:** **I told off my one coworker about skipping out yesterday but the other one isn’t even here again**

**Sakura:** **Damn where does he go?? how has he not been fired yet?**

**Negi:** **I don’t know, I guess our boss likes him**

**Sakura:** **Why would your boss like him if he doesn’t do his job**

Sousuke sets his phone down on the desk. The screen blinks to black.

Pushing aside the phone, he reluctantly looks through the Matsuoka files again and logs into the desktop to begin compiling data for a report. Someone from sales drops off more urgent files so he takes a break from Matsuoka Tempura to look at those, only lukewarm coffee to sustain him until lunchtime. Out of curiosity he pulls out his phone again and flicks through his emails first, then his texts. His frantic texts to Nanase from yesterday remain unread.

As Sousuke’s halfway through a data set for the Matsuoka place, there’s a knock at his door.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, buddy,” Seijuurou says, poking his head in. He lifts up his jacket sleeve to tap his watch. “Lunch?”

“Sure.”

They dine at the finest establishment nearby: 7-Eleven. Packaged salads and green tea in tow, they park themselves on a bench down the road from Wakana’s headquarters to soak in the sun and cooling breeze. Today has that perfect weather where the humidity of summer has worn off but the chill of fall has yet to settle.

Seijuurou talks, as he often does, and Sousuke listens, crunching on a sad excuse for tempura crab.

With a sip of his tea, Seijuurou peers across the street and shields his eyes from the sun. “Isn’t that…?” He blinks. “It is! Yo, Nanase!”

Sousuke follows his gaze, and lo and behold, there he is, approximately four hours late, heading in the direction of Wakana. Hearing Seijuurou, Nanase whips around, hand clutching the strap of his shoulder bag.

Seijuurou waves him over. “Come here!”

Reluctantly, Nanase changes direction and plods through traffic, hand still on the strap of his bag while his eyes avoid Sousuke.

“You doing okay, buddy?” Seijuurou leans forward, concern pinching his brows. “I heard you weren’t here yesterday.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Nanase says.

“You sure you’re okay to be here today?”

Nanase nods.

Swallowing, Sousuke interjects in a flat voice, “I did the meeting with the Matsuoka place yesterday, but my dad still wants you to work with me on it.”

Nanase nods again, slower this time, eyeing Sousuke without facing him directly. “Okay.”

“So I have some files I have to share with you.”

“Okay.”

Glancing back and forth between them, Seijuurou claps a hand on Sousuke’s shoulder. “Well, we’re about all finished up here, so why don’t we all walk back together?”

They walk back with Seijuurou in the middle as a buffer between Sousuke and Nanase, still talking away, but the energy is stilted, and Sousuke doesn’t listen. Seijuurou waves them goodbye and stays on the elevator while Sousuke gets off on the second floor and Nanase follows. New silence pervades as Sousuke leads Nanase to his office.

He makes copies of the files on Matsuoka Tempura as quick as he can, at least consumed with the whirring noise and beeping buttons as distraction from Nanase lurking there and watching him. When done, he shoves hot fresh paper into Nanase’s hands.

“I’ll send you what I’ve done of the report so you can add on to it,” Sousuke says, fully prepared to write the entire report himself over the weekend.

Nanase nods, eyes flickering over the papers in his hands.

“Oh, your mom’s here. She was looking for you.”

A twitch of Nanase’s mouth. “Right.”

Silence. Nanase nods with finality and heads for the elevator without a parting word, and Sousuke watches him go.

He returns to his desk and several unopened messages from Sakura.

**Sakura:** **You know what? You’re pretty bold making fun of me for liking Your Name when you have that weird obsession with Michael Jordan**

Sousuke laughs to himself.

**Negi:** **Yeah but I’ve never cried over Michael Jordan**

**Sakura:** **IT WAS ONE TIME**

**Negi:** **Sure**

**Sakura:** **Fuck off**

**Sakura:** **Anyway I think you have a crush on Michael Jordan**

**Negi:** **I don’t? I just think he’s cool**

**Negi:** **Also I like basketball and played it some in college, it’s a good sport for me because I’m tall**

**Sakura:** **Really subtle brag about your height**

**Negi:** **Just stating fact. I’d only brag if I knew for sure that I’m taller than you**

**Sakura:** **Well I’ll never reveal my height then**

**Negi:** **Sounds like someone thinks he’s shorter than me**

**Sakura:** **Shut up**

**Negi:** **Actually speaking of Michael Jordan in college I studied abroad for a semester at the university he went to in America, which was a huge mistake because my English is already shit and the dialect in the south is a lot different from what you learn in English courses**

**Negi:** **It was fun though, I got to see him when he visited campus for a game**

**Sakura:** **See this is exactly what I’m talking about**

**Sakura:** **Who does that for a player that isn’t even playing anymore**

**Negi:** **Leave me alone**

**Sakura:** **Nope**

Sousuke continues chatting with Sakura in between bursts of work, slogging through numbers and proposals to form half of his report on the Matsuoka place. Without expecting a reply, he sends the draft to Nanase anyway.

As the day comes to a close, Sousuke tucks away the Matsuoka files in his briefcase and loosens his tie, leaving his office with lights off and door shut for Monday. Seijuurou already waits for him in the downstairs lobby, still dressed properly, and the two of them wait for Momo to rush out of the elevator, jacket in hand, tie gone, and collar unbuttoned.

“It’s the weekend!” he practically shouts, grabbing the disgruntled attention of older company members.

Sousuke offers a pained smile in apology as Seijuurou ushers Momo out of there before he can tarnish his reputation even further, dragging Momo down the sidewalk by the arm.

“Nii-chan, let _go,_ ” Momo whines, unsuccessfully trying to yank his arm back.

Seijuurou drops him, but only to whip out his phone and unlock it. He scans the screen. “Isuzu says she’ll meet us there.”

They walk to the station and hop on the train, crammed in again as people begin to get off work. Squashed between Sousuke and Momo, Seijuurou snakes a hand into his pocket to check his phone again.

Seijuurou looks up and focuses on Sousuke. “Oh, yeah. Is Nanase coming?”

“Oh,” Sousuke says. “I forgot to ask him.”

Momo takes him at face value, but Seijuurou doesn’t, eyes lingering on Sousuke too long for it to be comfortable without saying anything.

“I’ll ask him,” Seijuurou says, typing something out.

Sousuke keeps his mouth shut.

They arrive in Nakano and head out the north exit, passing through the Sun Mall with its long pathway of shops under bright lights and a tall sunroof. They step out onto narrow, bustling streets full of smoke and restaurants and clubs. They find the izakaya doubling as a Thai restaurant and enter, clambering down narrow stone stairs to the basement. Inside is dark and smoky, traditional Thai music (Sousuke assumes) playing from a speaker. A couple of other business people sit at the bar, smoking and drinking, while others litter the tables.

The three of them settle at an empty table and peruse the menu after Seijuurou orders a first round of drinks. Momo reaches for a glass once the waiter brings the drinks out but Seijuurou bats his hand away.

Seijuurou says, “We’re going to be considerate and wait for Isuzu.”

“Aw, come on—”

“Nope.”

Momo wilts, gazing longingly at the sparkling gold.

They’re munching on appetizers for the table when Isuzu busts in, wearing a wide grin and an outfit composed entirely of Adidas.

“Hey, losers!” she chirps, sliding in between her brothers. She smiles apologetically at Sousuke. “Not you, sorry.”

“Five hours since I’ve seen you and _this_ is how you treat your dear eldest brother?” Seijuurou locks an arm around her neck and ruffles her hair.

Isuzu wriggles. “ _Nii-chan!_ ”

With a laugh, Seijuurou releases her.

Isuzu fixes her hair, pouting, and says, “You jerk, I’ve already had a long day. They found cockroaches in the Akihabara location so I had to deal with that.”

“In that case…” Seijuurou picks up his drink and raises it with a crooked smile. “Let’s get trashed,” he says.

Approximately forty-five minutes later the four of them are deep in an arm wrestling competition. Sousuke easily beats Momo and Isuzu (but makes a point to tell Isuzu how much stronger she is than Momo), and faces Seijuurou as his final challenger. Hurt by Sousuke’s betrayal, Momo cheers on Seijuurou while Isuzu backs Sousuke. It comes to a draw, and both of them amicably accept neither victory nor defeat and buy each other their next round of drinks.

As Sousuke downs half of his drink with a pleasantly warm face, Momo reaches over and pokes him. “Sousuke-senpai, your dialect always comes out when you drink,” he says.

Sousuke sets his drink down and wipes the froth away from his upper lip. “Does it?”

“Mm-hm! Or when you’re _really_ pissed. It’s funny.”

Despite knowing Momo’s good intentions and limited intellect, Sousuke feels a twinge, laughing it off. Seijuurou and Isuzu are too busy squabbling over something to notice. Sousuke drinks. Carbonation tickles the back of his throat.

Eventually the night concludes with Sousuke lugging a limp and incoherent Momo out after three drinks too many, while Isuzu and Seijuurou stagger after, having made up from their fight through singing some pop song together.

They pass a girls’ club, a woman in high heels and a short skirt at the door urging them to come upstairs.

“Mm, that sounds… fun…” Momo slurs into Sousuke’s shoulder.

Sousuke steers him away. “Nope.”

“Momo’s just sad that he can’t get a girlfriend,” teases Isuzu from behind.

Momo glowers over his shoulder. “S’not like you can either.”

“ _I’m_ focusing on my _job,_ which you can’t even manage.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” Seijuurou says. “It’s Friday! We’re supposed to be having fun, yeah?”

Momo huffs and sinks into Sousuke’s side. Isuzu purses her lips.

Within minutes, the three Mikoshibas are pals once more and shout-singing some song Sousuke’s never heard of as they stumble down the street, absolutely disregarding tempo and pitch.

They part ways at the station, Sousuke heading west and the other three heading east, so alone and still drunk, Sousuke stands utterly still on the ride from Nakano to Kichijoji, forcing himself to focus and not reek of drunkenness. He returns to his apartment, and after a shower where he stares at the wall for at least ten minutes doing nothing but letting the water rain on him, he flops into bed with wet hair. He falls asleep within minutes.

Late next morning he faces dark circles under his eyes and messy hair in the mirror, head aching as he shrinks away from direct sunlight. With water to clear his system and a light meal picked from his fridge, he gets to work on his report for the Matsuoka place, brief chats with Sakura interspersed among the typing. He woke late enough that his breakfast counts as a lunch, so he pops down to a steak place close to the station for dinner. It’s an izakaya as well, but he sticks to water, not wanting to: 1. get trashed two days in a row, and 2. be that guy who gets trashed alone.

On the way back, he spots a familiar sign and logo: _WAKANA TEMPURA._ He didn’t know they added a location in Kichijoji.

People thin out the farther he travels from the station, and he only passes a handful of people as he draws to his apartment building. Much earlier than the night before, he goes to bed, waking up Sunday weirdly exhausted from nothing the day before. He finishes his report on Matsuoka Tempura by early afternoon and sends it off to his dad and to Nanase, and with nothing better to do, he leaves the apartment and wanders down to Inokashira Park, again.

Among the hand-holding couples and chatty children, Sousuke pads down the slope of trees away from the road, finally catching glimmers of the pond at the bottom. He admires the flicker of sunlight through the trees and the deep green of the water, planting himself at a bench looking out across the water to the red temple on the other bank.

For a minute, he can almost convince himself he’s deep in a forest; autumn is soon, and after, snow.

But, above the trees on the horizon behind him, skyscrapers loom.

Feeling a buzz in his pocket, he checks his phone.

**Sakura:** **I’m going to KILL my sister she said she’s going to buy a dildo for me for my birthday right in front of our mom**

**Negi:** **But do you want a free dildo**

**Sakura:** **Not from my SISTER**

**Sakura:** **And I doubt she’d actually get me one, she’s just doing it to make me uncomfortable**

**Sakura:** **Jeez she always does shit like this, she always has to remind me that I’m gay and I don’t know, it’s weird**

**Sakura:** **If I were the one talking about being gay all the time it would be fine but it feels weird coming from someone else, like that’s all she sees me as**

**Sakura:** **Does that make sense**

**Negi:** **No I get it, it’s like you don’t get to control the narrative anymore**

**Negi:** **That’s a big part of why I haven’t told anyone in real life that I’m bi**

**Negi:** **And that stuff getting in the wrong hands can have terrible consequences**

**Sakura:** **Yeah I’m glad I work for my family so I don’t have to worry about getting fired or something but**

**Sakura:** **Must be tough for you in a company**

**Negi:** **Yeah at least no one suspects it from me so as long as I don’t say anything I’m fine**

**Sakura:** **That’s still tough though, not saying anything**

**Negi:** **Yeah**

Sousuke locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. Couples walk the dirt paths all around him, laughing, holding hands.

He sits there a while, watching the light change and the crowds thin out.

The rest of the day passes without consequence, Sousuke returning to his apartment and making dinner for himself. He checks his email in case his dad or Nanase replied to the report on Matsuoka Tempura, but nothing. He goes to sleep too early, lying there in half-formed thought for what feels like hours.

His alarm blares first at 6:15. He flicks it to snooze. Then 6:30. 6:45. Finally at 7:00, he rouses himself and pulls his shit together, eating something quickly and pulling on one of his suits. He gets to the station by 7:20 and crams himself onto the Chuo line, where he must grit his teeth and bear the elbow of the guy behind him poking into his back.

Freed from the sardine can of the train, he arrives at the office again, repeating the same greetings. This morning they have a brief meeting in the finance department that lasts entirely too long because his one coworker keeps asking weird hypotheticals.

After they’re finally dismissed, Sousuke slips into his office and dials his dad’s extension.

Click. “This is Yamazaki.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Sousuke says. “Just checking you got my report. You didn’t reply.”

“Report? Oh. Oh, yeah, I got it.” Something rustles on the other line. “Great work from you and Haruka. Go ahead and contact the Matsuokas and let them know we’re moving forward with it.”

Sousuke stares at his hand. “Okay.”

Click.

For a minute he sits, desk empty, briefcase unopened. He ducks out, snags a cup of coffee, and returns.

Without waiting for it to cool, Sousuke sips from his cup and begins writing an email to _matsuokatempura_. He sends it off within five minutes and dives into some other files, spending a while combing through them with a brief break for lunch with both Seijuurou and Momo.

Around four, his email pings with a new notification.

**RE: Moving Forward with Merger**

**Fine. I will let you know when we’re available for a follow up meeting.**

Taken aback by the bluntness and utter rejection of standard form even through email, Sousuke leaves the email to simmer in his inbox. Instead, he emails his dad and Nanase about the progression of events and by the end of the day, neither responds.

Everyone heads off different directions after work and once Sousuke’s crushed himself on the train back to Kichijoji, he once more heads down to Inokashira Park. With people getting off of work and heading to dinner, it’s quieter, more adults than kids, and Sousuke merely strolls around the perimeter of the pond, watching people sail across the water in swan boats.

A duck flaps past. His phone buzzes.

 **_Sakura_ ** **has sent you a message!**

Exhaling, he opens it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama is on the horizon, in the meantime i made a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m) for this fic with some bops
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	3. leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rin ready to throw hands, sousuke ready to catch them

**_Negi_ ** **has sent you a message!**

The train lurches and Rin’s phone goes flying from his hand—he contemplates the entirety of his life for a moment, watching it sail for the ground in perfect clarity—but Gou snags it before it lands. 

She hands it over, pursing her lips. “Are your hands really that sweaty?” 

He takes it. “Shut up.” 

Eyes lit with amusement, she looks back out the window, rooftops and cable lines rushing past. 

Rin saves the message from Negi for later as a reward for replying to Makoto’s text, checking Gou isn’t reading over his shoulder. 

**Makoto:** **So I’m guessing Kou-chan made you bring her, huh?**

**You:** **Yeah**

**You:** **It’s like she doesn’t trust me**

He exits out of the chat and neglects to mention Gou’s probably right not to trust him, considering he tried his damnedest to schedule this meeting some time when she couldn’t go. He switches to  _ Soul Only. _

**Negi:** **My coworker is late again and today’s the one day we have a meeting together**

**Sakura:** **Hah, good luck**

Rin stows the phone away in his pants pocket and sighs, grip tightening on the handle above. 

Together, the two of them squeeze off the train and hop up the escalator into the bustling station. They find the exit they need and step outside—it’s almost like summer today, balmy and humid, and Rin regrets having to wear long sleeves, unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. 

Following the map on Gou’s phone, they pass over several intersections and fall in the shadow of gleaming skyscrapers. Fast-walking people in crisp business attire pass them, invested in phone conversations and lugging big briefcases. 

Gou points, but she doesn’t need to, as they arrive at a silvery building with  _ WAKANA TEMPURA: TOKYO HEADQUARTERS _ plastered over the entrance. They step through sliding glass doors into a minimalist lobby with a front desk and a waiting area composed of uncomfortable looking blue chairs and big potted fronds. 

“May I help you?” says the woman at the desk, brown hair in smooth waves and makeup perfectly unnoticeable. 

“Ah, yes,” Rin says. “We’re supposed have an appointment with Yamazaki Sousuke? We’re the Matsuokas.” 

She gestures to the chairs. “If you’d have a seat I’ll check you in.” 

Rin and Gou settle in chairs opposite each other, and the chairs prove as uncomfortable as they look, Rin shifting around for a minute and slouching in defeat. They sit, listening to distant echoes of voices and the whirring of the elevator over clicks of the secretary typing. Rin taps his finger on the armrest. 

“Excuse me,” says the secretary. 

Rin immediately jumps up. 

“Someone will be out to see you in a moment.” 

Rin deflates, nodding. “Oh. Thank you.” He quickly returns to his seat, meshing his fingers together. 

Tap, tap, tap of the keyboard. 

The elevator dings and Rin sits up straight, but it’s only a handful of employees heading for the exit. 

The phone rings. Click of the receiver.    
  
“Wakana Tempura Tokyo Headquarters. Yes, I will put you through.”    
  


Across from him, Gou is absorbed in her phone, scrolling and scrolling. 

_ Ding. _

Late yet again, Yamazaki steps out of the elevator and spots them, some guy with dark hair tailing him. Rin jumps to his feet and motions for Gou to join him, and blinking up at Yamazaki and the other guy approaching, she stuffs her phone in her purse and stands as well. 

Yamazaki stops, his eyes flickering over Rin. “Thank you for coming.” 

Rin says, “Yeah.” Today Yamazaki’s shoulders fill out a dark blue pinstripe suit, and feeling small and underdressed, Rin rolls his own sleeves back down. Damn him for being able to afford looking sharp.

“It’s nice to meet you in person,” Yamazaki says to Gou, bowing his head slightly. “I’m Yamazaki Sousuke, and this is my associate, Nanase Haruka.” He waves a hand at the guy behind him, who does nothing more than nod.

Gou bows. “I’m Matsuoka Kou. Nice to meet you all as well!” 

“Well…” A hint of ice bleeds through Yamazaki’s tone as he addresses Rin again. “If you’d follow me to my office.” 

They clamber into the elevator and ride to heightened silence and clanks of machinery. It’s a mercifully short ride to the second floor, where they follow Yamazaki through a maze of cubicles and conversation before slowing at a series of closed offices. Yamazaki lets them into the one wearing his nameplate. 

The office is small, orderly, one desk and one chair with no windows to look outside or even to the rest of the floor.

“First, I just want to go over the contract with you,” Yamazaki says, pulling out the chair and offering it to Gou. He and the other guy (Rin has already forgotten his name) remain standing, so Rin crosses his arms and continues to stand as well. 

Yamazaki whips out some papers from a shelving unit and hands a packet to Gou, making Rin read over her shoulder.  _ WAKANA / MATSUOKA MERGER CONTRACT.  _ Yamazaki summarizes the entire contract out for them at record speed, Gou flipping through the packet as he speaks, paragraphs and paragraphs of words swirling in Rin’s head. The other guy seems to have nothing to contribute and neither him nor Yamazaki appears interested in changing that. 

Yamazaki lowers his copy of the contract. “So, that’s what we have at the moment. If you have any issues or concerns, you can tell me now and I’ll make changes for the official contract.” 

Silence and shuffling papers. Gou lowers the contract to her lap and looks up at Rin. Yamazaki also glances to Rin, but keeping his mouth clamped shut, Rin shrugs. 

“Great,” Yamazaki says. He takes the copy from Gou and replaces it back in the shelving unit. “I’ll get this approved and sent to you and you can just fax or email them back to me with your mother’s signature.” 

Gou says, “Great, thanks!” 

Yamazaki opens a different drawer. “Actually, I have a question for you…” His voice is muffled as he flips through files with a frown. “Where was it…” He shuts it and opens another, bending over to inspect. Rin pointedly looks elsewhere, refusing to cave and check him out, though from a mere glance Rin is relieved that Yamazaki doesn’t have much of an ass to check out, anyway. In vain, he attempts to convince himself Yamazaki’s appeal is entirely indebted to the power of a good suit.

Yamazaki pops back up with a folder in hand and flicks it open. “I was looking through your financial records and this was bothering me. Up until around three years ago, your restaurant was doing very well.” He stops on a page. “Comparatively, I mean.” 

Rin grits his teeth. 

“But then there’s these few months around three years ago,” he says, pointing to the page as proof, “where there was hardly any income at all, and it seems you never recovered from that. I just have to ask, because usually there shouldn’t be such as dramatic a drop as that.” 

Eyes softening, Gou looks up at Rin as if seeking permission. He shifts his weight and looks away. 

Gou faces Yamazaki again, exhaling before she says, “Um. That was when our dad died. It was his restaurant originally, so we kind of…” 

Yamazaki stiffens. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s your job to worry about financial stuff, right?” 

Slowly, Yamazaki nods, and they all settle into heavy silence. 

Rin clears his throat. “So, we done here?” 

“Not yet. As I said in my email, I’d like to introduce you two to some of the people you will likely see a lot of if everything goes according to plan.” 

“I know,” Rin says. “I meant are we done discussing the contract.” 

Yamazaki blinks. “Ah. Yes.” He sticks one hand into his pocket and lazily waves a hand toward the other guy. “I already introduced him, but Nanase will design your new layout once we find a space.” 

Rin snatches the guy’s name—Nanase, Nanase, Nanase—before it slips through his fingers again, and Nanase shows no reaction to Yamazaki’s introduction, blinking in silence. 

After a second, Yamazaki exhales sharply. “Well. We’ll go track down the others.” 

Without waiting for them or Nanase, he sets out the door, checking his phone as he goes. A breath behind, Nanase follows, and Gou quickly stands and places the chair back under the desk. She flicks off the light behind Rin and shuts the door after them. 

Following Yamazaki back through the cubicles, they cram in the elevator again beside other employees. An older woman squeezes in at the last second before the doors close, pushing Rin into Yamazaki. Wedged into Yamazaki’s chest, Rin clenches his jaw and looks anywhere but him, suffering the two minute ride from the second floor to the fourth practically itching with Yamazaki’s breath on him. 

Finally, they spill out and Rin can exhale, shaking off the feeling of Yamazaki beside him. Yamazaki wordlessly leads them to different cubicles, where they meet a string of random old guys whose jobs Rin doesn’t quite care to pay attention to. These guys seem as equally disinterested as Rin, so Rin is relieved to say farewell and move on elsewhere. 

Down a carpeted hall, footsteps thunder from behind. 

“Yamazaki-senpai! Yamazaki-senpai!”

Yamazaki turns and stops, as do the rest of them, finding a young guy with bright orange hair running breathlessly to catch up. The guy stumbles to a stop, eyes wide on Gou. 

“Wow,” he breathes. 

Yamazaki says, “What?” 

The guy appears not to hear him, mouth gaping and cheeks pink. Gou furrows her brow. 

Yamazaki repeats, “ _ What,  _ Momo?” 

Momo blinks dazedly and focuses on Yamazaki. “Oh! Yeah!” He tightens his tie with a flicker of a look to Gou and says, “Um, I won’t be here tomorrow.” 

“Okay. Could this have been saved for an email?” 

Unhearing, Momo rambles, “I won free tickets to Lemon Pop’s show tomorrow and they’re maybe my fourth favorites so that’s a good enough reason to go, also they’re holding a meet afterwards so I get to—” 

“Okay, I got it—” 

“—Mariko and Natsuha are also debuting their new duet, so it’s just really important that I—” 

“Momo—” 

“Oh, yeah!” Momo digs into his suit jacket pocket and whips out two bright yellow tickets. “I have an extra one, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to go with me, Yamazaki-senpai.” 

Yamazaki blinks, dread trickling down his face. “Uh. Not really my thing.” 

Momo wilts for only a second before perking up and pushing both Yamazaki and Rin aside to stand before Gou. He waves the tickets in her face. “Then maybe you want to go?”

“Uh…” Gou raises her hands, nervous laugh spilling out. “Thanks, but I don’t really know that group… Or you…” 

“I’m Mikoshiba Momotarou! I’m twenty-four, I went to Hamada University, I play harmonica, I collect bottle caps—”

“Momo.” Yamazaki places a firm hand on Momo’s shoulder. “She said no. We’re busy.” 

“—I was born in the year of the monkey and—” 

Yamazaki wheels him away with one hand and says something in his ear. Momo wilts permanently this time, forlornly stuffing his two tickets back into his pocket and moping down the hallway. 

“Sorry about that,” Yamazaki says as he returns, adjusting his cuffs. Without another word, he continues down the hall, and sharing amused looks, Rin and Gou follow. 

They stop at an office with the nameplate  _ MIKOSHIBA _ . Yamazaki raps on the door and peeks in, a loud voice bursting out from a phone conversation. 

After a second, a phone receiver clicks and the door opens wide, revealing a redheaded guy taller than Yamazaki in a black suit. Rin studies his face, thinking he looks familiar. 

“Hello!” the guy says, thrusting out a hand for Rin to shake. His grip is firm, but not overly so, and he maintains eye contact. “I’m Mikoshiba Seijuurou.” He switches to Gou and pauses before shaking her hand as well, grip seeming to soften. “I hear you all have a cute little tempura place we’re trying to snatch up!” 

“He’s going to help you with your marketing,” Yamazaki explains. “Since that seemed to be an issue.” 

Rin chews on the inside of his lip. 

“I heard that a certain young lady made your website on her own,” hints Mikoshiba, smiling at Gou. “Sousuke here sent it to me and I was so impressed with it. Are you studying graphic design or computer science or something?” 

Gou shakes her head. “Ah, no. I’m getting my degree in business.” 

“Really?” gushes Mikoshiba. “Well, I’m looking forward to working with such a sharp young lady.” He nods at Rin. “And you and your mother too, of course.” 

Rin nods politely. “Right.” 

After light talk that goes nowhere and a warm farewell from Mikoshiba, they part ways and head up another floor. Rin almost entirely forgets about the other guy (Nanase, he reminds himself), who has yet to say anything. 

Yamazaki brings them to an office with the door propped open. Empty coffee cups on the desk, random construction tools like hammers and drills scattered on the floor, soccer posters so clustered on the walls it’s impossible to tell what color the wall is. Sat at the desk is a young woman who doesn’t fit in with the previously established atmosphere of Wakana, lounging back in an red tracksuit with feet propped on the desk, shoulder length hair a wily orange. 

Her face breaks into a wide smile when she sees them. “Sousuke!” she chirps, pulling her feet down from the desk and hopping up. 

Rin is surprised anyone is capable of looking so happy to see Yamazaki, but he’s even more surprised to see a fond smile on Yamazaki’s mouth. 

“Hi!” says the young woman, waving at him and Gou. “I’m Mikoshiba Isuzu! I’m in charge of construction, so we’ll probably see a lot of each other in the coming months!”

After Rin and Gou introduce themselves to her, Gou repeats, “Wait, Mikoshiba?” 

Mikoshiba Isuzu tilts her head. “Oh, have you already met my brothers?” Yamazaki nods for them and she shakes her head, hand clenched over her heart. “Idiots, both of them. I apologize for anything they might have done or said to you, I am very well acquainted with their stupidity.”

“Oh, um. Thanks, I guess.” 

Isuzu briefs them on her role as manager of construction projects and how she herself often does the manual work. 

“Well…” Isuzu says. After a moment of thought, she darts back to the desk, hopping over a box of nails on the floor. She returns with a black marker and takes Gou’s hand in hers, quickly scrawling something out on Gou’s inner forearm. Gou blinks, eyebrows raised, as Isuzu finishes and places the cap back on the marker. 

“If you have any questions, comments, concerns about the construction process, please feel free to contact me!” she says. “This is my personal line, so I am here for any issues you might have!” 

“Oh…” Gou looks down at the numbers underneath  _ MIKOSHIBA ISUZU _ , heart encircling them. “Um. Thank you.” 

Isuzu beams. “It’s my pleasure!” 

They stand there.

Yamazaki clears his throat. “Well, we should get going.” 

“Aw, okay! Bye-bye! It was nice to meet you!” calls Isuzu as they file out, waving. 

As they return to the hallway, Rin notices Gou surreptitiously scan over the name and number on her arm, fingers grazing skin. Some older man followed by a crowd of who visibly appear to be subordinates approaches, bringing talk with them, and she looks up. 

The older man slows. “Oh, hello,” he says to Yamazaki.

“Hey.” Yamazaki stops and gestures to Rin and Gou. “These are the Matsuokas.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Brow arched, the man looks down on them with a piercing blue gaze. “Nice to meet our new experiment in person.” 

Rin’s skin crawls, but he bows his head nonetheless. 

“This is my father, Yamazaki Iwao,” Yamazaki says, lifting his chin. “He’s co-CEO of Wakana.” 

_ This asshole is the CEO’s son? _ Rin thinks, now able to identify the similarities in their dark hair, light eyes, and general sliminess. 

“Yes, and Haruka—” Yamazaki Iwao claps a hand on Nanase’s shoulder, “—is my step-son.” 

Rin and Gou nod for lack of anything better to do. The air grows tight with Yamazaki, Yamazaki the elder, and Nanase all looking off in different directions, and Rin feels as if he’s accidentally encroached dangerous territory. 

“Well,” says Yamazaki, “see you later.” He nods at Rin and Gou. “Let’s go.” 

They continue onward, leaving Yamazaki’s dad and the weird moment behind, following Yamazaki without complaint back to his office. 

“Well, thank you for coming by,” he says, stopping at the door and not bothering to let them inside again. “I’ll send you the contract and keep you updated once we start moving forward.” 

“Thank you!” Gou says. 

Rin says nothing and neither does Nanase.  _ Guess we’re not important enough to escort all the way downstairs,  _ Rin thinks. 

“Well…” Yamazaki stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Have a good day.” 

Gou replies, “You too!” 

For a second before Rin and Gou turn for the elevator, Yamazaki’s eyes fall on Rin, and Rin’s back burns as they walk away. Once freed and out of the building, Rin exhales a big breath and they walk back to the station and board a train back to the restaurant. 

Standing by the car door, Rin checks his phone for something to do, but no new replies from Negi yet. He sighs and stows away the phone, looking over at Gou, who reads over the number drawn on her forearm again. 

Rin nudges her in the shoulder. “You were very popular today. It’s like I wasn’t even there.” 

Mouth twitching, Gou tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hah, yeah, I guess…” Her eyes drop to her forearm. “I hope we get to see more of that one lady, um… Isuzu-san? She was really nice. I need to make more friends with girls, I’m always stuck with you and Makoto-kun.” 

Bypassing the insult, Rin says, “Uh.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “You do know she was… uh. Flirting. With you.” 

Slowly, Gou blinks. “Huh?” 

“Gou, she drew a heart around her number.” 

Looking back down, Gou mumbles, “I thought she was being friendly.” 

“ _ Jeez. _ ”

The train rattles to a stop and they shift out of the way of the door to let people out and in. When the doors shut and they chug on again, Gou studies her forearm without speaking. 

Peering into her, Rin asks, “Something up?” 

“Oh, it’s just… I’ve never gotten hit on by a girl before, so it’s kind of… weird, I guess.” 

Rin bristles. “ _ Why _ is it weird?” 

“I didn’t—” Mouth parting, Gou shrinks. “I didn’t mean—That’s now what I—” 

“Nevermind.”

“Rin—” 

“Forget it.” 

Gou closes her mouth, opens it, and flicks her gaze away. The train slows at the next stop, her shoulder accidentally bumping into Rin’s, and behind them, the station jingle plays over pattering feet and echoing voices. 

When they arrive at the restaurant without speaking, Gou lets Rin use the bathroom to change into his uniform first. He quickly locks himself in the back office with grunts in greeting to Ai at the front and his mom in the kitchen. Invoices of new shipments, electric bills. He flips through them, reading numbers and calculating, mind too clouded to make any tangible progress. 

A knock at the door. Rin jumps and checks his watch. 6:37. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey, kiddo,” says his mom, poking her head in. “Makoto-kun’s here.” 

“Oh.” 

She scans over him, head tilting. “Not going to say hi?” 

“No, I will.” He drops his pen and stands, offing the office light as he follows her out. 

Gou is alone at the counter now, chatting with Makoto across the counter, who has his glasses on and his backpack. Rin slows in the kitchen, listening to them laugh, not yet in sight. 

Makoto spots him through the kitchen window. He waves. “Rin!” 

Reluctantly, Rin steps out of the kitchen, skirting Gou’s gaze as he stops beside her. “Hey.” 

Makoto says, “Thought I’d stop by and get some food. I have a lot of studying to do tonight.” 

“Oh, yeah, you have an exam tomorrow, right?” 

Makoto droops, one strap of his backpack sliding off his shoulder. “ _ Yes, _ ” he whines. “And I procrastinated studying for it.” 

“You dumbass, I’ve told you not to procrastinate. It’s your senior year, haven’t you learned?” 

“I know, I know. I’ll drink a lot of coffee and do it right after eating.” 

Rin sighs and faces the kitchen window, where his mom prepares something at the grill. “Mom, can you make whatever Makoto ordered to go?” 

She flicks him a thumbs-up. 

“Eh?” Makoto says. 

Rin jabs a finger at him. “I know you will try to procrastinate more if you stay here and eat, so the minute your food is done, I’m kicking you out. And don’t go to a cafe. You always get distracted.” 

With a chuckle, Makoto says, “Thanks, Rin.” 

They talk as they wait, and true to his word, the second his mom hands over a warm takeout box, Rin ushers Makoto out the door, wishing him good luck. 

Makoto’s form disappears down the street and Rin turns back to the counter, shaking his head. “He needs to learn self-preservation.”

Gou laughs. “Yeah.” 

A beat of silence, the awkwardness between them resurfacing. 

“Oh, um, did I show you?” Gou grabs under the counter for her phone, unlocking it and scrolling through pictures. “You know that gray cat that hangs out by the science library? Well…” She shows him a fullscreen image of a gray cat surrounded by four similarly colored balls of fur. 

“Oh,” Rin murmurs, taking the phone from her. He pores over the picture. Blinking away the wetness welling up in his eyes, he hands the phone back to her and sniffs, “Cute, I guess.” 

She smiles knowingly and takes back the phone to swipe through her other pictures, finding more of campus cats and showing them to him. The night wears on and they end up leaning onto the counter and watching cat videos during the spaces with sparse customers. The invoices and bills lie waiting for him back in the office. 

Later at his apartment, after they’ve closed up the restaurant and parted ways without touching the thing between them, Rin checks his phone, toweling his hair dry. 

**Negi:** **Today was a shit show**

**Sakura:** **Agreed**

He flops onto his bed and begins typing.

* * *

“Have a good day,” Sousuke says to the younger Matsuoka.  _ Don’t have a good day,  _ he thinks to the older Matsuoka.

Sousuke is riddled with holes from the intensity of Matsuoka’s glare on him all meeting, so watching him and his sister vanish down the hallway and out of Sousuke’s life for at least the next few days, Sousuke exhales deeply. 

In Sousuke’s preoccupation Nanase attempts an escape, his back to Sousuke as he heads the opposite direction. 

“Oi,” Sousuke calls after him. “We’re not done here.” 

Nanase turns back, eyes flat, and reluctantly retraces his path. For a moment bitter words brew at the back of Sousuke’s throat, but he keeps his mouth shut and opens his office door. 

Under dingy fluorescents, Sousuke digs through his files again and procures a copy of Matsuoka Tempura’s current floor plans. He pushes it into Nanase’s hands. “Start thinking about how to redesign it. I’ll check in on your progress once we receive the contract back. Which reminds me.” He plops down in his chair and opens up the digital copy of the contract. “I’ll finish reviewing this tonight and send it over to you. Once we get it back from them and find a location, your new design will need to be completed as soon as possible.” 

Fingers pinching the sheets of the floor plan, Nanase nods. 

Sousuke sinks back into his chair and rubs his eyes, his restraint crumbling. His hand drops to his lap. Acidly, he says, “You know, thanks for all your help today.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Sousuke’s hand curls into a fist. “You know—” 

“We both know you prefer that I don’t talk anyway,” Nanase says, dangerously quiet, “so what does it matter.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I was going to anyway.” Nanase opens the door and slams it behind him. Sousuke’s pens rattle in their cup on the desk. 

Letting out a groan, Sousuke bows his head, fingers curling in his hair. He sits there a minute, steaming, before loosening his tie and going to the break room for his sixth cup of coffee for today. He chugs it down and wholeheartedly ignores how it’s way too late to be drinking caffeine and immediately makes another cup. 

Full of uncomfortable, jittery energy, he cracks down on revising the contract for the Matsuokas, struggling to focus on the long passages of dense text. At only page three, he considers stopping and saving the rest for later, but Nanase comes to mind again, and as if possessed, he surges through the document and completes the revision before the work day ends. 

Gloatingly, he sends it off as a PDF in a polite email to  _ matsuokatempura. _

A knock at the door. Sousuke tightens his tie and smooths back his hair before calling, “Yeah?” 

His dad enters. “Hey.” 

“Oh. Hey.” 

“It’s almost time to pack up,” his dad says, checking his watch. 

“Yep.” 

“How about you and I go get dinner afterwards? It’s been a while with just the two of us.” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” 

“Great, just meet me in the lobby when you finish up.” 

With that, his dad leaves, and Sousuke is left with bitter coffee on his tongue. 

Only a half an hour remains of the work day, and done with contract and not wanting to start other projects with such a short amount of time, Sousuke shoulders on his jacket and leaves the office, heading up the stairs. Following the path of cubicles, he hears it before he sees it: unmistakable electronic beats and piercing vocals. Sure enough, Momo has some music video playing fullscreen on his desktop. 

Rapt, Momo doesn’t hear Sousuke approach. Sousuke clears his throat. 

Momo slams the spacebar and springs to his feet. “I wasn’t—” Seeing Sousuke’s expression, he goes quiet and meekly sits back down. 

“I’m going to get you headphones for your birthday,” Sousuke says, stepping into the cubicle. 

“Wait, really?! I want the Beats ones, you know, with the red and—” 

“No, not—” Sousuke rubs his forehead. “Look, just… Don’t make this job so trivial, okay? You skip work way too much and when you’re here you’re unfocused and you act in inappropriate ways. Do you know how many people would love to have your job, the job you didn’t even have to  _ apply _ for because you’re the co-CEO’s kid?” 

Momo squirms, eyes trained to the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t mean to—” 

“I know you don’t. Just… think, a little bit more.” 

Momo nods. He runs the sole of his shoe over a fraying strand in the carpeting. 

Sighing, Sousuke turns to step out. “If you get your act together, we’ll see about those headphones.” 

He returns to his office to wait out the last ten minutes, rearranging things on his desk to pass the time. With his briefcase filled with everything he needs and his lights turned off, Sousuke departs for the first floor. He stops in the lobby and waits by the seats. After a few minutes, Nanase passes out the door alongside another crowd of people leaving for the night, their eyes meeting for half a second. 

Watching the new loads of people coming down from the elevator and the staircase for his dad, Sousuke pulls out his phone. Tons of emails but nothing from  _ matsuokatempura, _ thirty texts from Momo, a handful each from Seijuurou and Isuzu. 

**_Sakura_ ** **has sent you a message!**

**Sakura:** **Hah, good luck**

_ Too late.  _ Sousuke begins to type a response. 

“Hey.” His dad approaches from the elevator. 

Deleting what he typed and locking the phone, Sousuke shoves it into his pocket. “Hey,” he says back. 

“What are you feeling tonight?” his dad says, nodding at Tanaka at the desk and heading through the glass doors. 

Warm evening air infiltrates Sousuke’s lungs. “Oh. I don’t know, whatever.” 

They end up going to a yakiniku place in Shinjuku, crammed in the dimly lit room with a bunch of other businessmen also just off work. Old wood furnishings glow a deep reddish brown. 

His dad orders beers for the both of them and when the waiter brings two golden glasses out, his dad polishes off his within a minute or two. Sousuke sips at his, checking out the menu. Back when this—going out, spending quality father-son time—was a more frequent occurrence, the two of them would revert to their Nagano dialect, in need of something comforting and known. Now, though, they stick to the Tokyo dialect. 

“Everything going well with the Matsuoka thing?” his dad asks after ordering a refill. 

“Yeah,” Sousuke lies, sitting back as the waiter brings the refill for his dad. 

His dad swallows another mouthful. “Well, even if it falls through, at least we’ll know how to do it properly next time.” 

“Right.” 

“It’ll be interesting to see what Haruka does with the space, once we find it. Have you seen some of his sketches? He’s so talented. I keep telling him to go back to school and get into architecture.” 

Barely moving his mouth, Sousuke says, “Uh huh.” 

The waiter returns to take down their meal orders, and once he copies them down, he fires up the grill between them on the table. 

Sousuke takes another sip of his beer. The group of guys at the table beside them burst into raucous laughter, the smoke from their cigarettes drifting over. 

His dad sets his glass down. “How’s Isuzu doing?” 

“Uh… Good.” 

“You’re still friends with her, right?” 

“Yeah…?”

“I just was wondering.” Another chug, throat bobbing. “I always tell Hidenori, he shouldn’t have let her hang around her brothers so much. She acts like a boy.” 

Sousuke’s hand tightens around his glass. 

“Ah, whatever, she’ll grow up eventually. She’s still a pretty girl.” His dad smiles, faintly. “You ever think about dating her?” 

“Uh. It’s not really like that between us.”

“Really?” His dad’s smile widens and he says, “You sure said that quickly.” 

“No, really, we’re just friends. It’s not—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Leaning back, his dad takes another drink, looking entertained. “I’m just saying, Isuzu needs someone to settle down with and you need to relax a little—” 

“I don’t—” Sousuke bites his tongue, knowing that any further word will only be another shovelful of dirt burying him deeper in his grave. “Dad, it’s not going to happen, so don’t expect it.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it. See what I mean about needing to relax a little? When was your last girlfriend, anyway? Four years ago?” 

Sousuke downs the rest of his drink. 

They grill their cuts of meat and vegetables with short conversation, luckily shifting away from Nanase and Isuzu and Sousuke’s dating life to boring topics about the company. The food is good, but Sousuke’s stomach churns the whole time. He sticks to the one beer while his dad tackles a third, face growing red. 

His dad pays for the both of them when they finish and they head out, a fresh breath of air washing over them in contrast to the stifling restaurant. 

“Glad we got to do this,” his dad says at the station, waving as reaches his platform. “See you tomorrow.” 

Sousuke raises a hand. “Yeah.” 

His dad disappears in the swarm of people. 

Sousuke squeezes onto the Chuo line, restless with energy, and with the fifteen minute ride from Shinjuku to Kichijoji awaiting him, he pulls out his phone and reopens  _ Soul Only _ to finally reply to Sakura _. _

**Negi:** **Today was a shit show**

He arrives in Kichijoji without a response yet, and not wanting to return to his silent, empty apartment yet, Sousuke ambles down to Inokashira Park yet again, falling into the chirps of birds and insects and the distant rumble of cars and trains. With night time, kids are few and couples holding hands fill the park. Sousuke stops and looks out at the pond, ripples carrying speckles of light. 

A sharp bark. A woman and a guy draw near him, a huge, puffy white Samoyed leading them down the path. Insides warming, Sousuke watches the dog sniff the ground from afar and inches closer, stooping down to make himself seem as least threatening as possible.

“Excuse me?” 

The couple step back anyway, the woman’s grip tightening around the leash. 

“Is it okay if I pet your dog?” 

“Oh.” Relaxing some, the woman glances at the guy before facing Sousuke again. “Sure.” 

Sousuke crouches and extends a hand out to the dog. It sniffs him a moment, wet nose brushing against his skin, and licks him. He scratches around its ears and scruff, its wagging tail thumping the ground. 

“What’s its name?” he asks, rubbing soft fur. 

“Yuki.” 

“Yuki,” Sousuke repeats, fondly. He pats Yuki’s head once more for good measure and stands. “Thank you, sorry for interrupting.” 

They continue off on their walk, and sighing, Sousuke pads through the trees. 

Eventually, he returns to his apartment still with no reply from Sakura yet, so he takes a shower and climbs into bed at around 10:23. He checks his phone again, pulse quickening to see a notification from  _ Soul Only. _

**Sakura:** **Agreed**

The typing bubble pops up, so Sousuke waits. 

**Sakura:** **I can’t stand this new guy I have to work with, he’s one of those guys who probably gets so many girls even though he’s an asshole just because he’s hot**

**Negi:** **Yeah I know the type**

**Sakura:** **It makes me even more pissed that he’s hot**

**Sakura:** **He doesn’t deserve it**

**Sakura:** **Why do hot straight guys get to be jerks all the time and no one cares**

**Negi:** **Yeah I don’t know, so many people are really popular dating-wise and I can never understand**

**Sakura:** **That reminds me, I’ve heard that it’s easier to date when you’re bi because you have more options. is that true?**

**Sakura:** **You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to**

**Negi:** **No it’s fine**

**Negi:** **Maybe that’s true for other people, but I think they’re already charming and likeable so since I’m an awkward and distrustful person I usually don’t do well with anyone regardless of gender**

**Negi:** **It’s not that I dislike people, I just don’t know how to act around people I don’t know well**

**Negi:** **Also a lot of people don’t trust you if you tell them you’re bi. On here I’ve had guys tell me that I’m fake or homophobic and a lot of people say they wouldn’t date a bi person**

**Sakura:** **Shit**

**Sakura:** **Sorry, that sucks**

**Negi:** **It’s fine, I’m used to it**

**Negi:** **I mean being anything other than straight is a hassle so I’m sure you understand**

**Sakura:** **Yeah that’s true**

**Sakura:** **Wait but what’s this about being awkward and distrustful? You seem fine with me**

**Negi:** **Are you saying that you think I’m a charming person**

**Sakura:** **That’s NOT what I said**

**Negi:** **Sure**

**Negi:** **Well you’re a big enough dumbass that I don’t have to worry about anything I say**

**Sakura:** **Shut up**

**Negi:** **;)**

**Sakura:** **Stop**

**Sakura:** **Oh yeah I didn’t ask, how was your day a shit show?**

**Negi:** **Well first off my coworkers are all collectively trying to make me look a huge dumbass**

**Negi:** **And then my one client thinks he’s so smart and thinks he knows better than me even though he’s the one who hired me**

**Sakura:** **Gross, that sounds so frustrating**

**Sakura:** **Sometimes I just wonder what people are thinking**

**Negi:** **Yeah**

**Negi:** **Shit it’s late I need to go to sleep**

**Sakura:** **Yeah me too**

**Negi:** **Well**

**Sakura:** **Goodnight I guess**

**Negi:** **Yeah you too**

Sousuke waits to see if Sakura sends anything else, but he doesn’t, so he exhales and locks his phone. He sets it on the nightstand and flicks off the lamp, sinking into his pillow with eyes adjusting to the dark. He doesn’t notice himself drifting off until his alarm hammers at his ears the next morning. 

Four alarms later he hops on the train and heads to the headquarters, yawning as he files in and says his greetings to people. He doesn’t begin to feel like a person until midway through his first cup of coffee, alone with silence in his office. His email is full, but no returned contract from  _ matsuokatempura _ yet. 

Slightly more alive, he starts going through his other duties, calculating balances with a small black calculator. 

His landline rings. He checks the caller and doesn’t recognize the number, but duty forces him to pick up. “Yamazaki Sousuke, Wakana Tempura.” 

A pause. “This is Matsuoka Rin. From… Matsuoka Tempura.” 

“Oh.” Sousuke’s fingers curl around the cord. “Uh… Can I help you?”  

“Yesterday you said to let you know if there were any issues with the contract.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, I have an issue.” 

“I see.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t keep our original location,” Matsuoka says. “Plenty of restaurants are small and do fine. And like I’ve said multiple times, we’re known in the neighborhood and have regular customers.” 

Sousuke sighs and rubs his temple. “Well, then you all would have nowhere to work because we’d still need to change the space. Unless you think keeping the restaurant open during construction is a good business plan.” 

“ _ Obviously  _ we wouldn’t keep the restaurant open during construction,” Matsuoka says, verging on snapping. “I was thinking that during the time it takes to complete construction we could work at nearby locations of Wakana Tempura.”

“Uh, that’s—” 

“You probably have nine thousand locations in Tokyo alone, right? What’s the problem?” 

“I don’t recommend—” 

Matsuoka sighs. “I don’t care what you do or don’t recommend; is it possible?” 

Teeth gritted, Sousuke manages, “I can look into it.” 

“Great,” Matsuoka says. He hangs up. 

Left with a repetitive dial tone, Sousuke slams the phone down. He snatches up his coffee cup and chugs the rest, crumpling up the cup and hurling it at his trash can. It doesn’t land, so he jumps up and drops it in himself. 

Pressing out a breath, he sits at the desk. He picks up the phone again and begins dialing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you're nobody till somebody wants you dead - saint motel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AL583lVdZYk)
> 
> [full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m)
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	4. snowballing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are on the decline

As an eternally crowded, noisy stretch with a confusing station and even more confusing path of streets, Shibuya represents everything Sousuke doesn’t like about Tokyo. 

Sousuke weaves his way through the station, even more lost with construction blocking one  pathway. He continues walking, squinting at the signs overhead, entirely sure he’s already passed this direction.  _ Hachiko Exit, _ it says for the nine hundredth time. Finally, he sees sunlight up ahead and he clambers out to freedom, out in the square surrounded by skyscrapers and billboards. 

Shibuya’s one redeeming factor is the Hachiko Statue, the bronze dog sat waiting beside some trees and benches. People cluster around it as Sousuke passes, lining up to take pictures. Deep in the recesses of some photo album back home in Nagano, there’s a picture of thirteen-year-old Sousuke himself with Hachiko from his first visit to Tokyo. 

Sousuke continues on and slips into the crowd going over the crosswalk. Luckily, he’s already visited Wakana’s Shibuya location before so he already knows where it is, and he has the map prepared on his phone in case he only thinks he knows where it is. Again, passing by all these stores and restaurants, he wonders who the hell assigned Matsuoka to Wakana’s busiest location. 

_ WAKANA TEMPURA _ glows from a sign up ahead, and Sousuke sighs in relief. He specifically came post lunch rush, but as it’s Shibuya, there are still plenty of people sat at the tables when he enters to a bell and the aroma of the fryer. 

“Welcome—Oh, Yama-chan!” 

Sousuke smiles tiredly, stepping up to the counter. Big eyed Hazuki leans forward and smiles, Matsuoka on his side with arms folded. 

“Hey, Hazuki,” Sousuke manages. 

Almost to himself, Matsuoka mutters, “Yama-chan…?” 

Hazuki ignores Matsuoka. “What can I get for you today, Big Boss Guy?”

“I’m not here to eat, I’m just checking how things are going.” Sousuke tries not to look too pointedly at Matsuoka. 

“Great!” Hazuki snags Matsuoka’s arm and tugs him into his side. “Rin-chan is my new best friend!” 

Matsuoka frowns and leans away. 

“Actually, do you mind if we talk a second?” Sousuke says to Hazuki. He nods at Matsuoka. “If you can keep the front.” 

“I can.” 

Hazuki untangles himself and follows Sousuke to one of the empty tables. Facing Matsuoka at the counter, Sousuke sits, and Hazuki a moment afterward. Matsuoka busies himself with refilling the straws. 

“So…” Sousuke focuses back on Hazuki, who fiddles with the name tag pinned to his dark blue uniform shirt. “How’s it going with Matsuoka? Really.” 

Hazuki pinches his mouth and drops his hands to his lap. “What do you mean? I already told you.” 

“Well, I just know he can be tough to deal with sometimes…” 

“We haven’t had any problems.” Hazuki flicks a short look back. “He’s a little serious, but he’s been nice to me and the cooks. And he’s always warm and friendly with customers.” 

Sousuke nods, stuck on the words ‘warm’ and ‘friendly,’ unable to match them with Matsuoka. But then again, he knows Hazuki pulls no punches, and when a young couple step up to the counter to order, Matsuoka transforms into a polite, smiling guy.

Hazuki leans into his palm. “Jeez, Yama-chan, what little faith you have in poor Rin-chan.”

Sousuke does not reply. He waits for Matsuoka to hand off a completed order to the couple before standing and approaching. 

The easiness and friendliness drips away from Matsuoka’s expression. “Done gossiping about me?” 

“It’s not gossiping…” 

“Uh huh.” Matsuoka folds his arms. “Is this even your job, checking up on me? Shouldn’t someone else be doing this?” 

Sousuke ignores this and instead asks, “Did you get my email?” 

“About the floor plans? Yeah, I looked over them with Mom and Gou. I guess it looks fine, it’s just hard to tell what it looks like without actually seeing it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sousuke says. “If you all would like, we could have Isu—I mean, Mikoshiba-san show you around the space so you can see how it would look yourself.” 

Matsuoka nods, slowly, expression neutralizing. “Okay.” 

“I’ll ask her for times she’s available and get back to you.” Sousuke whips out his phone and sends a quick text to Isuzu before pocketing it. “For the time being, I’ll let you continue working. Let me know if there are any problems.”  _ Please don’t, _ he thinks. 

Again, Matsuoka nods, saying nothing. 

“Bye-bye, Yama-chan!” calls Hazuki, furiously waving. 

Hand holding the door open, Sousuke raises a polite hand in farewell and slips back out onto the sidewalk. 

Ends up Sousuke only knows how to get to the restaurant and does not know how to get back to the station, for he treks up and down, accidentally passing through Love Hotel Hill, which despite the glowing neon signs is understandably quiet at 3:49 on a week day. He stops, regroups, frowns over a map on his phone, and sets off in the direction the map says. It’s not the Hachiko entrance to the station, but he’ll take any entrance that will get him out of here. 

After yet another tight trip on the Yamanote line, he gets off and walks to Wakana’s headquarters. He snags a cup of coffee from the break room before settling into his office and checking his messages and emails. Isuzu already responded about showing the Matsuokas around the space, so he copies the times directly from her text and pastes them in an email to  _ matsuokatempura _ . 

The day continues as normal. Sousuke makes a brief detour to discuss some files with someone on the fifth floor. He hops on the elevator by himself, faced with his own warped image in the shiny silver door. 

_ Ding. _ Fourth floor. 

The doors open and there stands Nanase, arms around a box. They meet each other’s eyes and Sousuke steps aside to let him in without a word. He doesn’t bother asking what floor and lets Nanase select the glowing six for himself. 

The doors shut. Nanase’s box seems to be filled with assorted personal items, like a mug, a cup of pencils, a small plant. As the elevator rumbles upward, Nanase hugs the box more tightly, avoiding Sousuke’s eyes. 

_ Ding.  _ Fifth floor. 

Sousuke gets off without a word or a look back. 

The day concludes without much else, and Sousuke returns home with an email in response from  _ matsuokatempura _ and texts from Isuzu. He whips up a small meal in his own kitchen and eats it at the counter instead of taking the effort to sit. He washes it down with a glass of water. 

Next morning is the usual; four alarms, zero personal space on Chuo line, and bitter, watery coffee to start him off at the office. He spends the morning calculating predictions for next quarter and sipping through multiple cups of coffee, his suit jacket draped on the back of the chair and his combustibles bin full of crumpled cups. 

A knock at the door, and it opens before Sousuke has time to respond. 

“Hey, Yamazaki-senpai!” chirps Momo. “We’re going to lunch if you want to come with us.” 

Sousuke checks his watch and makes note of where he stopped. “Yeah, sure.” He stands and puts his suit jacket back on, checking his phone and wallet are still in the pockets. 

“Oh,” Momo says as Sousuke flicks off the light and shuts the door after himself. “Nii-san said he invited Nanase-senpai but he never responded, so we’re supposed to check if he’s in his office.” 

“Ah.” 

They head up the echoing stairs, Momo bounding from step to step, and come to the fourth floor. Sousuke lets Momo lead him, and they reach the row of office doors, but where Nanase’s name should be is an empty label. 

“Huh?” Momo says. 

Sousuke frowns, jumping to the (likely) conclusion that he’s at the wrong door and on the wrong floor. 

Footsteps as someone steps out of the copy room. “Oh, looking for Nanase-kun?” says an older guy with graying hair and thick glasses. “He was moved to the sixth floor. Promotion, I hear. Assistant Director of Design.” 

“Thanks!” Momo says.

Sousuke stays silent, watching the back of the guy’s head as he walks away, salt and pepper hair thinning. 

Momo tugs at his arm. “Well, let’s go see if we can find him.”

They continue onward up to the sixth floor and scrounge around, both unsure where they’re supposed to go. By fortune, they turn down a quiet hallway with plush carpets, names lining every door. 

“Oh!” Momo dashes to a door, excitedly pointing to a door labeled  _ NANASE. _

“There may be more than one Nanase…” Sousuke trails off when Momo ignores him and raps on the door. 

“Yeah?” comes a voice inside, and Sousuke’s insides clench. 

Momo bursts in. “Nanase-senpai!” 

Nanase sits at the desk, pencil in hand, a window letting in light and a skyline view from behind him. He tilts his head quizzically. 

“We’re going out to lunch!” Momo waves a hand at Sousuke, who reluctantly steps into the room. “Me, Yamazaki-senpai, Nii-chan… Want to come?” 

Nanase’s fingers tighten around the pencil. A pause, long enough for his eyes to linger on Sousuke before turning to Momo. “Sorry. I’m busy right now.” 

“Aw, okay. See you later, then!” 

A second after Momo exits, Sousuke follows, memory flashing with images of the same mug and plant sat upon Nanase’s desk. 

The door echoes as it falls shut behind them. 

* * *

It should be Rin’s day off from Wakana, and yet, here he is in the bike lane sailing for the gutted shell of Matsuoka Tempura to meet with that one woman from before—Mikoshiba Isuzu—and see what they’re planning with the space. His mom was busy with her new position at the Harajuku location, so only him and Gou could make it. He’s not late, but when he arrives, Gou and Isuzu are already standing outside the door, chatting. 

“Hi!” says Isuzu, waving. 

“Hello.” Rin hops off his bike and locks it. 

“It’s so good to see you both again, Matsuoka-kun and Matsuoka-chan!” Isuzu grins broadly and rolls up the sleeves of her hoodie, and not for the first time, Rin wonders what a person like her is doing at Wakana Tempura, a place of expensive suits and glittering towers. She pats her pocket. “I have a key, so should we just head in?” 

Rin glances down the street. “Where’s Yamazaki?” 

“Oh, Sousuke? He’s not coming. Did he tell you he was?” 

“No, I just—It seems like he’s taken dealing with us on himself, so I assumed…” 

“Oh. Yeah, no, he’s busy with other stuff, I guess.” Whipping out the key, Isuzu fits it in the keyhole. 

They follow her through the front door. Rin lingers on the unlit sign overhead, the one that still reads  _ MATSUOKA TEMPURA. _ According to their contract, the new name will be Wakamatsu Tempura. 

Inside is quiet, emptied out, their footsteps echoing. Isuzu pulls out several white sheets with detailed diagrams and descriptions and flicks through them. “Ah, here we go!” she says, showing them one labeled  _ SEATING. _

She talks them through the new organization of the space, how they’re going to break down a couple of the walls inside to make more space for seating and reorganize the kitchen for compactness and efficiency. 

“Now, back here…” 

They creep through the silent, still kitchen, smell of old frying oil hanging in the air. Isuzu flips to the multiple sheets of plans for the kitchen, detailing the changes to the fryers and sinks and storage. 

“And back here too…” Isuzu pushes through to the little beige office, where the desk, chair, and files are gone and now living in Rin’s apartment. There’s barely any room to walk in his apartment anymore, his shins black and blue from walking into the desk time and time again. “We’re going to minimize the space here and make a bigger storage space instead.” 

Rin frowns, scanning the bare walls. The framed picture of him, Gou, their mom, and their dad sits somewhere in a box in his apartment. “But this space was already cramped enough. We won’t have room for all our files anymore.”

“Well, ah, Matsuoka-kun, you were mostly in charge of financial stuff, right? Now that your restaurant is a part of Wakana, it won’t be just you anymore. Here we’ll probably only keep invoices of shipments. The rest of your files will be at Wakana’s headquarters.” 

Rin clamps his mouth shut and nods, making a mental note. 

They leave the dark and empty office and quickly tour the rest. Isuzu folds up the plans and shoves them back into her backpack, offering a smile. 

“Well!” she say, eyes flickering between them and staying on Gou. “I hope that helped! That’s all I have to show you for now. Once you approve everything, we can start construction.” 

“It looks fine to me,” Gou says. Her eyes turn to Rin.

He says, “I’ll have to think about it.” 

Gou presses her lips together. 

“Well, I’m not the person you have to confirm it with, anyway,” Isuzu says, smiling. She gestures to the exit. “Shall we?” 

They filter back out, Rin studying the yet unchanged walls and floors and seats, cataloguing them, unsure what this place will look like the next time he visits. 

Isuzu hops forward to hold open the door for Gou. “After you,” she says, sweeping a hand in the direction of the sidewalk. 

Mumbling thanks and dipping her head, Gou passes through. Isuzu doesn’t wait for Rin and lets the door fall on him. Rin, pushing it open with one hand, grits his teeth at the pang in his shoulder and steps out.

“Oops, sorry!” 

“Do you have the key to lock it up?” is all he can manage. 

After locking the door, Isuzu faces them and smoothes out her expression into something more serious. “Well, thanks for coming by.” She nods at Rin and offers out her hand. “Matsuoka-kun.” A quick, firm shake. Her eyes turn to Gou. “Matsuoka-chan.” Without hesitation, she steps forward and gives Gou a hug. 

Gou doesn’t pull back, lightly patting Isuzu on the shoulder. 

When they part, Rin clears his throat. “Well, I’m heading back to my apartment, so…” 

“Oh, are you heading to the station?” Gou asks Isuzu. “I can walk with you since I have to go to class.” She waves at Rin, beginning to walk the opposite direction. “See you later, onii-chan!” 

They both turn forward, voices talking into the distance. Rin, frowning, unlocks his bike. 

His apartment is the same as he left it; stuffed full of files and furniture from the restaurant. He hops over a box of files near the entranceway and still manages to knock over a different pile of files. “Dammit,” he hisses, bending over to pick up the spillage. 

He surveys the space with his hands on his hips, envisioning ways to make a better pathway what with the desk, the shelving units, the boxes, the chair. Within the span of an hour he manages to free up maybe a foot’s worth more of space, as his apartment is only so large and there’s only so much space to be had. 

Grumbling to himself, he takes a seat and checks his phone. 

**Negi:** **So you know my coworker who skips all the time and does jack shit**

**Negi:** **He got a promotion the other day**

**Sakura:** **What the fuck?? How???**

**Negi:** **Everyone thinks he’s so smart and talented because he went to Waseda and I don’t get it**

**Negi:** **It doesn’t even seem like he wants the promotion either**

**Negi:** **The past month has sucked**

**Sakura:** **Same**

**Sakura:** **I’m sorry about your coworker, I know you work really hard and you deserve to be recognized for it**

**Negi:** **Thanks**

**Sakura:** **If it’s that bad at your company, why not look at other places? I’m sure plenty of companies would want someone as hardworking as you**

**Negi:** **No I like it here, there’s just pros and cons to everything**

**Sakura:** **I guess that’s true**

**Sakura:** **Hey on an unrelated note, when did start to realize you might be bi?**

**Negi:** **Maybe about a year ago, so around when I was 25**

**Negi:** **Why do you ask**

**Sakura:** **I guess because for me, I’ve always sort of known I was gay (obviously though I didn’t start telling people until later) so I can’t really picture not realizing until later**

**Sakura:** **I ask because I keep getting the feeling that my sister might be into girls?? But she’s never said anything about it so I’m not going to ask**

**Negi:** **I mean you can never know by looking at someone**

**Sakura:** **I know, I just want to be there for her if she needs it**

**Negi:** **It sounds like you already are, so you shouldn’t worry about it**

**Negi:** **She’ll come to you when she wants to**

**Sakura:** **Yeah**

His phone buzzes and a preview from a different app pops up. 

**Makoto:** **Hey so remember when we talked about going on vacation after my graduation in March? Do you still want to?**

**You:** **If I can get away from work, yeah**

**Makoto:** **Okay because I have some suggestions for places we could go**

**Makoto:** **I was thinking somewhere more rural, somewhere we could do outdoor activities or something, like hiking or skiing**

**Makoto:** **I’ll send you links**

**You:** **Cool**

After checking some images and descriptions of a mountain cities with potential for hiking and skiing and discussing logistics, the topic shifts. 

**Makoto:** **How’s your new job going?**

**You:** **It’s okay, kind of the same as working at our restaurant**

**You:** **That one guy is still annoying as hell though**

**Makoto:** **Oh you still see him around??**

**You:** **Yeah I guess he’s in charge of merging our restaurant or whatever**

**You:** **I’m just looking forward to when this whole thing is done and I never have to see his stupid face ever again**

**Makoto:** **Uh huh**

**You:** **What do you mean “uh huh”**

**Makoto:** **Oh I don’t know, you seem to thrive whenever there’s someone to compete against**

**You:** **Okay yeah but I’m not competing with him over anything?**

**Makoto:** **If you say so**

**You:** **What is there to say????**

**Makoto:** **(⌒‿⌒)**

**You:** **One of these days I’m going to block you**

**Makoto:** **Okay**

Feeling hungry, Rin leaves Makoto on read and whip up some food from the slim pickings in his fridge. He makes note to go grocery shopping and eats the completed attempt at a meal. The rest of the day passes in domestic boredom as he sets off for the nearest grocery store to restock his fridge and cleans both the kitchen and bathroom when he returns. The files and furniture continue to absorb space. He knocks his elbow into a metal shelf and spits out a swear. 

Before he falls asleep, his mind returns to the barren, empty Matsuoka Tempura.

An alarm for five wakes him the next day, and half-asleep and in half-dark, he readies himself for his shift in Shibuya. It’s a whirlwind of activity as always there, though the kid Hazuki isn’t there to fill his ears with chatter. He gets out at 4:21 and walks around Shibuya still wearing his uniform.

Finding a bench on the sidewalk, he plops down and pulls out his phone, skipping over texts for his contacts. He selects  _ Corporate Jackass _ .

Two rings. 

“This is Yamazaki Sousuke.” 

“This is Matsuoka Rin from Matsuoka Tempura,” Rin repeats, feeling practiced now. “Your coworker, Mikoshiba-san, showed my sister and I around the space yesterday.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” 

Rin doesn’t let him get in another word before continuing, “I have an issue with the office.” 

A pause. “And?” 

“So you want to make the office smaller and have someone else be in charge of our files at the headquarters? That’s  _ my  _ job, what am I supposed to do?”

Yamazaki sighs. “Look, I didn’t make the floor plans. And if you want to be completely in charge of everything—” Something changes his voice, delivery almost like a dialect Rin can’t identify before it vanishes. “—you shouldn’t have merged with a bigger company.” 

Rin bites his tongue and racks his mind for something to say in return. Nothing. 

Yamazaki says, “Is that everything?” 

“Yeah, that’s everything,” Rin mutters, and hangs up. 

He steams the whole train ride from Shibuya, clenching the handle with bloodless fingers and circling back to the tone in Yamazaki’s voice again and again, riling himself up even further until he hops off to find the cafe Makoto told him to meet at. Exhaling and shoving the trembling energy down, he enters to casual jazz music and whirring coffee machines. 

Makoto waves at him from a table and Rin waves back. As Rin pulls out a chair and sits, Makoto tilts his head, brow furrowing. “Is that your uniform for…?” 

Rin pats the name tag still pinned to his breast. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot to change.” 

With a faint smile, Makoto slides a cup to Rin. “I went ahead and ordered a coffee for you,” he says. 

Midway through their conversation about Makoto’s semester, Rin receives a text from his mom telling him to call her when he gets a chance. After he and Makoto part ways and Rin returns to his crowded apartment and yet again trips over some files, he calls her. 

“Hey!” she chirps. 

“Hey,” he says. “Something wrong?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Kou didn’t come back home last night, which isn’t a big deal but usually she lets me know ahead of time. So I called her but she didn’t answer, so I thought to try Hana-chan in case the two of them were out late studying but Hana-chan said she wasn’t with her. I’m a little worried, so I just wanted to see if you know anything.” 

“The two of us did that meeting yesterday afternoon, but after that, I don’t know.” 

“Oh…” 

“I’ll try calling her,” he says, pulse in his throat. 

“Okay, I’ll check with the school too.” 

“Okay, bye.” 

The second they hang up, he selects Gou’s contact, listening to the rings and eventual message with heightening energy. He calls again to the same result, then sends a series of texts to her and to people she might’ve seen on campus (Makoto, Hana, others) while ignoring messages from Negi. 

Finally, around six in the afternoon, his phone buzzes. 

**Gou:** **Sorry I’ve been in class and clubs all day**

**You:** **You didn’t have 30 seconds the whole day to text Mom back??**

**Gou:** **I didn’t check my phone until now, sorry**

**Gou:** **I was busy studying last night**

**You:** **But Mom said she talked to Hana and you didn’t stay with her last night**

**Gou:** **Yeah I stayed at a different friend’s place**

**Gou:** **Relax I’m not 12**

**You:** **Don’t tell me to relax**

**You:** **You could have at least told Mom you weren’t coming back last night**

She leaves him on read. 

Hand shaking, Rin debates whether to call her or not, but settles for texting their mom and updating her on Gou. He locks his phone and doesn’t look at it again the rest of the evening. 

When his alarm for work goes off the next morning, Gou still hasn’t replied. 

* * *

“Nice shot!” Sousuke says. 

Basketball echoing off the back wall, Isuzu grins at him before dashing to nab the ball. She jogs back and passes it to Sousuke, who, unprepared, just barely misses getting hit in the face. 

“Try to keep up,” Isuzu says, winking and stealing the ball from him. She heads for the net again.

Exhaling, he jogs after. 

In desperate need of some way to burn off all the anger he’s bottled this week, Sousuke selected the most appropriate person: Seijuurou is too perceptive, too considerate; Momo is too oblivious, too self-centered; Isuzu is the perfect middle ground. Nostalgia tickles him with the smell of the gym and the echoing squeaks of shoes on the court, reminding him of all the Saturday morning practices in undergrad. Admittedly, he barely dragged his ass out of bed for them, but now, playing on a Saturday afternoon at his own choosing, he almost misses the obligation and the willing suffering of it all. 

Isuzu makes another shot—it bounces on the rim and they both watch with held breath as it eventually drops into the hoop. Isuzu lets out a shout in glee and scoops up the ball. 

“You’re a lot better than Momo,” Sousuke says, this time catching the ball when she tosses it to him. 

“In general or at basketball?” 

“Both, probably.” 

She smirks. “I know.”

The gym door opens, letting in three guys and distant noise from the weight room of the athletic complex. 

“Oh,” says one guy, spotting Sousuke and Isuzu. “Mind if we share the court?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Isuzu answers, and she and Sousuke move to the side of the court where they’ve set their belongings. 

The three guys’ joking echoes off the high ceiling as Sousuke and Isuzu take a breather. 

Sousuke sips at his water bottle, draining it down to one sip. He holds it up to Isuzu. “I’m going to go refill this.” 

He ducks out of the gym door into the hallway, some pop song playing from the speakers overhead. On his right is the men’s locker room and the left the women’s locker room, and just beyond, the hallway turns into the weight room. He heads into the weight room in search of the water fountain. Weights thunk and clank, people of varying buff proportions pulling, lifting, pushing, holding. 

Sousuke squints at the walls, scouring for the water fountain he knows exists. Eyes drifting over to the shelves of dumbbells in front of a mirror, he stops short. He ducks behind the nearest piece of machinery he can find, the middle aged man doing leg presses shooting him a weird look. 

Across the room, Matsuoka drops a dumbbell on the shelf and wipes his face with a towel draped around his neck. Mercifully, he doesn’t seem to have spotted Sousuke, chatting with some brown haired guy with him. He laughs at something the guy says, voice loud and warm. 

Matsuoka and the other guy walk away from the dumbbells and face away from Sousuke, so Sousuke scurries away, abandoning his search for the water fountain. He returns to the hallway toward the locker rooms and the basketball court, Matsuoka out of sight. Sousuke exhales. 

Next to the women’s locker room sits the mythical water fountain. Concerned how he missed it the first time yet relieved he found it, Sousuke stops and fills up his water bottle. The fountain hums pleasantly. 

Pulling away, he goes to take a sip but misses his mouth, water sloshing down his chin and chest. “Dammit.” Uselessly, he wipes at the darkened splotch on his t-shirt. 

Footsteps. “Yeah, and didn’t she plan to—” 

Matsuoka halts, losing his train of thought, his eyes on Sousuke. Sousuke freezes like a rabid raccoon caught sifting through someone’s garbage. 

Laugh gone, Matsuoka says, “Oh.” 

Sousuke straightens up. “Matsuoka.” 

“Yamazaki,” Matsuoka says back, after a pause. 

Up close, Sousuke isn’t sure how to process how different Matsuoka seems without some uniform on, collarbones and muscular arms visible in a gray tank laced with sweat, towel draped around his neck. 

In the thin pause, the other guy frowns between Matsuoka and Sousuke. Sousuke wonders if Matsuoka’s going to introduce him, but Matsuoka says nothing more and wipes his face with his towel, heading into the men’s locker room. His friend follows after with a polite nod to Sousuke. 

Water bottle three-quarters full, Sousuke fills it to the top. 

When he returns to the basketball court, two of the guys practice free throws on one side while the third guy talks to, or rather, talks at Isuzu on the other side. 

Noticing Sousuke’s approach, the other guy puffs out his chest and lifts his chin. “Hey, you her boyfriend?” he asks, pointing at Isuzu.

Isuzu rolls her eyes. “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend.” 

Sousuke nods and stops beside Isuzu. “What she said.” 

“Well, in that case,” the guy says, turning back to Isuzu, “want to play with me sometime? It’s rare to find a girl who can also be one of the guys.” 

Sighing deeply, Isuzu readjusts the ball under arm. “Thanks, but I’m not interested.” 

“Oh, come on—”

“I’m not interested in boys, so.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m no  _ boy,  _ I’m a—” 

“Let me clarify: I’m not interested in boys  _ or _ men. Goodbye forever.” She turns on her heel and dribbles toward the hoop. 

The guy watches her with his mouth agape, blinking slowly. His eyes dart to Sousuke for a second, falling on the splotch of water on Sousuke’s chest. The guy shuts his mouth, and without a word, he turns to the other side of the court and rejoins his friends.

Sousuke follows Isuzu, stopping to watch her hurl free throws. 

Pausing with ball aloft and eyes on the hoop, Isuzu says, “Straight guys always think everything’s about them.” She tosses. The ball bounces off the backboard and she lets it fall without immediately recovering it. “I do the things I do because I want to, not because I want to be one of the guys.” 

She picks up the ball and aimlessly bounces it as she returns to the line. She smiles up at Sousuke. “Sorry, I don’t mean you.” 

_ Oh. Me.  _ Sousuke says, “Oh. Yeah.” 

Sobering up again, Isuzu stops bouncing the ball and studies the hoop a breath. Her throw sails through. 

Afterward, they get a late lunch nearby, both of them fresh from the gym showers with clean clothes. They mull over the menu, Isuzu sipping on a sparkling drink through a straw. 

“You know,” she says, looking up, her hand resting on the menu, “I wish I’d thought of this, but I should have told that guy that I have a girlfriend. Get him  _ really _ uncomfortable.” 

Sousuke sits back, arms crossed. “…Do you? Have a girlfriend?” 

She exhales and focuses off in the distance, stirring her drink with the straw and rattling the ice. “Hm. Maybe?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well, we’ve hung out a couple of times and she’s really cool and pretty and I like her a lot, but she said she’s never considered liking girls before so she’s a little… conflicted. Which, you know, fair. We all go through that.” Isuzu smirks. “I mean, maybe you don’t. I can’t speak for straight people.” 

Sousuke laughs, nervously. 

“We went out the other night to karaoke and we missed the last train so we stayed at the karaoke place until maybe five and it was super fun. But it seems like she’s worried about what her family would think of her, so maybe she’s going through a hard time.” 

“Oh,” Sousuke says. “That must be rough.”

“Yeah.” Isuzu slurps through her straw and shrugs. “Well, at the moment I’m fine with just hanging out normally. I don’t want to push her or anything. But can’t you  _ imagine _ the look on Momo’s face if he found out I had a girlfriend and he didn’t?” 

Sousuke laughs for real. 

They order and receive their food, and midway through tearing up a steak rib, Isuzu slips off to the bathroom. Sousuke, alone at the table, unlocks his phone. He ignores his texts and emails for now. 

**Sakura:** **Do you ever think about whether we’ve come across each other in real life but we don’t know it**

**Negi:** **One thing that surprises me about Tokyo is that I always end up running into people I don’t want to even though the chance of that happening is so small, so maybe**

**Sakura:** **Are you saying you don’t want to run into me**

**Negi:** **Yeah**

**Sakura:** **Jerk**

**Sakura:** **But really, wouldn’t that be weird? Like we’re connected already somehow**

**Negi:** **What is it with you and things about destiny and fate**

**Negi:** **You watch too many romance movies**

**Sakura:** **Oh come on, like you’re not interested in whether we’ve met in real life**

**Negi:** **I’m not interested**

**Sakura:** **Shut up**

“What are you laughing about?” asks Isuzu, sliding into her seat. 

Sousuke locks his phone and drops it in his pocket. “Nothing.” 

She nods slowly, brows arched. “Uh huh.” She takes to stirring her drink again, a conspiratorial smile on her mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to sort of have a girlfriend too, would you?” 

Again, Sousuke’s insides twist, and he takes a bite of food as a diversion. “Nope.” 

“Uh huh.”

His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he does not look at it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact taking a sip from a water bottle and missing my mouth is something i do all the time because i'm your local Disaster
> 
> [bulletproof - la roux](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk8eJh4i8Lo&list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m&index=3&t=0s)
> 
> [full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m)
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	5. jumped the gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh, ariana, we're really in it now

“We’re out of straws,” says Hazuki, checking behind the counter. “Can you go get some?”

“Yeah.” Rin opens the door to the kitchen and slips in, carefully weaving past the cooks and sizzling foods for the storage room. Inside is dark. He flicks on the fluorescent overhead.

Listening to the clangs of cooking utensils and a nearby police siren, Rin sifts through boxes on shelves for straws, finding three boxes in a row just of hand wipes. _Why the hell are none of these labeled?_ he thinks, opening another box to find yet more hand wipes. After about ten minutes, he finally finds blue striped straws in a box on the bottom shelf and brings them to the front.

“…with oolong tea?” Hazuki repeats back to a customer, reading from the order list on the computer screen. He glances to Rin as if in question, and Rin lifts up the package of straws in reply before opening it and pouring the straws into their storage cup.

After the order is completed and Hazuki has handed over a receipt to the customer, Rin asks, “Hey, can you handle the front?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I want to reorganize the storage room. Nothing’s labeled and it wastes so much time to have to search everything.”

Raising his eyebrows, Hazuki shrugs. “Go for it. Better you than me.”

“Cool.”

Passing by the cooks again and barely avoiding a steaming plate of vegetables to the face as one cook whips around, Rin locks himself in the storage room. He searches around for a minute for a black marker to write with. He uncaps it with his teeth and pulls down the first box from the shelves.

Box by box, he works through them, briefly taking a break to check his phone.

 **Negi:** **My coworker keeps sending me these memes with beetles and I want to block him but I can’t**

**Sakura:** **Just ignore him and he’ll get the point**

**Negi:** **He gets worse when you ignore him**

**Sakura:** **Block him then**

When the message goes unread, Rin slips his phone into his pocket and retakes the marker.

He’s writing _HAND WIPES / CUP LIDS_ on a box from a middle shelf when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

Yamazaki enters, letting in noise from the kitchen. Rin’s inside curl.

“Good afternoon,” Yamazaki says, stiffly, shutting out the din behind him. He jams his hands in the pockets of his gray suit pants.

Rin shoves the box back onto the shelf. “Good afternoon.” He pulls out a new one.

A couple of beats of silence, Yamazaki surveying the room and shelves. “I’m just checking in on everything. Hazuki said you were in here.”

“Yep,” Rin says, scrawling out _TOOTHPICKS._ “The boxes in here weren’t labeled, so I thought I’d do it myself.”

“They weren’t?”

“No.”

“Hm. That’s not good.”

“Yep.”

More silence; Rin trains his eyes on the box before him, itching with Yamazaki’s presence clouding the room. He sneaks a glance up as he moves onto a new box. Yamazaki’s tie is a truly ugly stripe between two clashing shades of blue, and Rin feels a little better.

“Oh, yeah.” Yamazaki steps closer. “So this year is Wakana’s sixtieth anniversary.”

“Congrats.”

“We’re hosting an event here in Tokyo in two weeks and my father suggested your mother, your sister, and you attend.”

Rin lowers his hand. “What? Why?”

“Well, you all are a part of the company now. Also, we’d like to get the word out about our merger, and having all three of you there would be helpful.”

 _Ah, a publicity stunt._ Rin resumes writing. “I see.” Replacing the box, he opens the next one and scans the contents. “I’ll have to check with my mom and sister.”

“Right. I’ll send more specific information about when and where.”

Rin nods. Squeak of his pen.

Yamazaki clears his throat. “Well, as I said, just checking in. Have a good day.”

“Thanks.”

The door opens and shuts. Rin pauses with the marker in his hand, exhaling.

Once he finishes sorting through all the boxes, he returns to the front, where the lunchtime rush has cooled and Hazuki is restless in the lull before dinnertime.

“Ugh,” Hazuki whines, wilting over the countertop. “Why’d you have to tell Yama-chan about the boxes? He lectured me about it.”

“Not my fault,” Rin says. He taps Hazuki’s shoulder. “Get off the counter.”

Groaning, Hazuki straightens up and lets Rin re-sanitize and wipe down the blue counter. “You both like lecturing me.”

Rin says nothing, stepping away from the counter to wipe down currently empty tables.

Eventually, the crowds pick up again as the sky darkens outside and both Hazuki and Rin are too busy to talk or think about anything other than taking people’s orders. Rin moves on autopilot, repeating the same things and pressing the same buttons, until they close up and clean for the night.

“Bye-bye, Rin-chan!” Hazuki waves once they step into the chill outside, heading the opposite direction.

Rin waves back.

He heads through the crowds to the station, just barely snagging a train before the doors shut. Squashed in by the door, he checks his phone, a little disappointed there’s nothing from Negi.

**Makoto:** **So my project members haven’t shown up and I’ve been texting them and no one’s responding**

**Makoto:** **The presentation is TOMORROW**

**You:** **Where are you? I could come help just so it’s not all your responsibility**

**Makoto:** **No no I don’t want to make you do that. You had work today, right?**

**You:** **Nah it’s fine, don’t worry about me**

**Makoto:** **You’re not in the class, I can’t make you do that**

**Makoto:** **Oh wait one of them responded, he said he’ll be here in 10 minutes**

**Makoto:** **You don’t have to come**

**You:** **If you say so**

**Makoto:** **Oh on a better note I finally met Kou-chan’s girlfriend!**

**You:** **Gou’s what**

**Makoto:** **Her girlfriend, Isuzu-chan**

**You:** **Uh**

**Makoto:** **Wait**

**Makoto:** **Do you not know???**

**You:** **No one’s told ME anything**

**Makoto:** **Oh no I thought you knew**

**Makoto:** **Well**

**Makoto:** **She’s really nice?**

Rin backs out of Makoto’s chat and selects Gou’s name. He stares at their last conversation, where she ignored him, grappling for something to say. He begins typing, forcing down a handful of words before deleting them and returning to a blank textbox. He attempts another sentence, only to delete that one as well, and another, before giving up completely and putting his phone into his pocket.

When he reaches his stop, he hops off and walks the length back to his apartment. Inside is cramped as usual with all the shelves and files and furniture from Matsuoka Tempura, and he trips on a box near his bedroom door. Grumbling, he shuts the door after himself, blocking out the chaos.

The next day is his one day off this week and he sleeps in until 7:34. After showering and eating breakfast, he checks his phone to find an email from Yamazaki about that sixtieth anniversary gala. He doesn’t bother reading it. Next, he opens a notification from _Soul Only._

**Negi:** **Yesterday was my mom’s birthday and I totally forgot**

**Negi:** **How long do you think I have left to live**

**Sakura:** **Oh shit**

**Sakura:** **I’ll think well of you when you’re dead**

**Negi:** **She’s only half my height but she could definitely take me**

**Sakura:** **Bragging about your height again**

**Negi:** **I didn’t even say I was tall this time, just that she’s shorter than me**

**Sakura:** **The implication was there**

**Negi:** **Whatever**

**Negi:** **I’ve been doing a lot of overtime lately so hopefully I can use that as my excuse to her**

**Sakura:** **Yeah I wouldn’t count on it**

**Negi:** **Yeah**

**Negi:** **She’ll probably drive all the way from Nagano just to kick my ass**

**Sakura:** **Oh she doesn’t live in Tokyo?**

**Negi:** **No she and my dad are divorced so she still lives in Nagano while he lives in Tokyo**

**Sakura:** **Oh I see**

**Sakura:** **Do your parents have new spouses or anything?**

**Negi:** **My dad remarried but my mom didn’t**

**Sakura:** **So you have a stepmom**

**Negi:** **Yeah she’s really nice and we get along well**

**Sakura:** **That’s good**

**Sakura:** **In movies you always see the evil stepmom character so it’s good to hear not everyone is like that**

**Negi:** **Hah yeah she’s nothing like that**

**Negi:** **Alright I better call my mom**

**Negi:** **If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why**

**Sakura:** **Rest in peace**

Alone again, Rin glances to his text messages, finding several from Makoto about his apparently disastrous presentation. Rin once more opens his chat with Gou, fingers hovering over the screen as he tries to pull a sentence together. Nothing.

The screen goes dark on its own accord and he sets the phone down with an exhale, gaze stretching across the mess of his apartment. After a moment, he stands and heads to his bedroom to change into something more appropriate for the chilly fall weather outside. Heading back out, he trips on a box and hisses a swear to himself.

Rin rides the train a smidgen nauseous, taking a nostalgically familiar route to the university without once needing to check a map. Once off the train, he passes the sports center, the auditorium, that one cherry tree that always bloomed late and was pink among the green. Now, the campus trees are all in shades of red and gold, and that cherry tree, still late, is green.

Amidst students with backpacks and coffees, Rin parks himself at the base of the steps of one of the biggest lecture halls, one that reaches up ten floors. He checks the time—11:24—and knowing the third period ends at 11:30, he waits until 11:31 to pull out his phone and call Gou’s number.

His pulse in his throat, he listens to the rings. They run out, and the message machine kicks in. Hanging up, he tries again.

Finally, on the third ring, a click.

“Hey?” Gou says, like a question. “Is something up?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you wanted to get lunch. With me.”

“Um… It’s not lunch yet.”

“I know, I mean—When it’s lunchtime.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m meeting up with a friend.”

Rin’s insides sink. “Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe another day?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Sorry.” A pause. “Um… Anyway. See you later.”

“Yeah.”

Click.

Lowering his arm, Rin flicks through his phone, willing a message to come from Negi, but nothing. He doesn’t move from the side of the building, leaning into a pillar. The crowds thin out as the next period begins, but students continue to walk across the plaza, no one paying any attention to him.

He checks his watch—11:43, 11:58, 12:11—until around 12:35, five minutes before lunch, he spots a familiar form with bright orange hair across the street.

Rin ducks out of sight as Isuzu ambles up near the front steps of the building. She comes to a stop at the front steps of the lecture hall and doesn’t notice him crouched to the side, instead more interested in checking her phone. Holding his breath, Rin watches and waits, and with the chime of the bell signaling lunchtime, students spill out of the building’s entrance. Isuzu pockets her phone and readjusts the baseball cap on her head.

Rin’s chest tightens when Gou comes down the front steps, smiling and waving at Isuzu. Isuzu hugs her with a grin and takes her hand.

It takes Rin a moment to notice Isuzu’s eyes over Gou’s shoulder, her mouth forming words the chatter drowns out.

Before Rin has the thought to move, Gou wheels around. “Onii-chan?!”

He straightens up, mouth agape, nowhere to run as Gou storms over to him.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

“Uh, well—”

“Are—are you _spying_ on me?!”

“No! No, I just happened to be on campus, so I—”

“You don’t even go here anymore.”

“I’m meeting Makoto!”

“You just asked _me_ to lunch!”

He pauses, her voice echoing in his ears. “Yeah, because you never talk to me—”

“Oh, like _you_ don’t avoid everything you don’t like.” She puts her hands on her hips and glances back at Isuzu, who offers a limp wave in support. Her scowl returns to Rin. “What’s going on? Where did all this come from?”

“You’re dating her? ”

Gou blinks, cheeks reddening. “Where did you hear that?”

“Who else? Makoto.”

“I didn’t—I—” Heaving a sharp exhale, she rubs her temple. “I never said we were dating, I just introduced them. He must have assumed…”

“Perceived, more like. So, you’re not denying it?”

“Rin, it’s none of your business.”

“She works for _Wakana._ ”

“So do you and I.”

“Yeah, but like, _work_ works for Wakana. She’s one of the co-CEO’s kids!”

“So?”

Rin looks away and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Forget it.” He brushes past her.

“See what I mean?! Where are you going?”

He doesn’t respond and or look back, passing Isuzu, who nods politely with an expression of discomfort, and joins the swarm of the other college students. Their talk falls on his deaf ears. Blindly, Rin returns to the station and takes the train back, and when his phone vibrates in his pocket, he does not touch it.

Back to his apartment, alone, he trips on a box of files. He places a hand to the wall and steadies his breath.

He decides to change into workout clothes and go to the gym. The whole time he’s there, blasting music through his earbuds and forcing himself through more reps than usual, he is wary. With his perfect luck, Yamazaki is probably here again. But the universe gifts him one small piece of good, and Rin leaves the gym exhausted and sweaty without laying his eyes on Yamazaki once.

There are messages and voicemails from his mom, Makoto, and Gou, but his eyes glaze over them and he opens nothing, instead going for _Soul Only._

**Negi:** **Well my mom was kinda pissed I forgot her birthday but I lived**

**Sakura:** **Damn and I thought I’d gotten rid of you forever**

**Negi:** **If you really wanted me gone you would have blocked me by now**

**Sakura:** **Yeah yeah**

**Negi:** **Anyway I’ll just have to send her something nice to make up for it**

**Sakura:** **Yeah that sounds like a good idea**

The conversation fizzles out there, and Rin doesn’t have the energy to keep it going. He takes a shower, eats dinner, watches a sappy shoujo romance, and goes to sleep. Throughout the night, his buzzing phone wakes him up, but he doesn’t check the messages.

Next day up at 5:00, at Wakana in Shibuya by 5:30. During his lunch break, he checks his email to avoid his texts and voicemails, but dread weighs him down when he sees an email from Yamazaki Sousuke titled _Logo Samples._

**Attached are several samples our graphic designer put together for your new location. Please inform me which one you all like best.**

Rin opens the attached pictures. Gone are the familiar red curves of _Matsuoka Tempura,_ replaced with the sterile blue characters of _Wakana Tempura._ He scrolls through all five options (five), and guts twisting, he selects _Reply._

The empty textbox sits there, waiting. His fingers are frozen.

Instead, he pockets his phone and leaves the break room, plucking up his backpack. He checks his watch, estimating the travel time, and approaches the guy he’s working with today at the front.

“Hey, I know it’s my break right now, but something came up and I have to go out for a little bit,” Rin says. “Sorry, when I get back I’ll let you take a long break too.”

“Oh.” The guy blinks and nods. “Okay. Is everything okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Vowing to never do something like this again, Rin slings his backpack over his shoulder without bothering to change out of his uniform and ducks outside.

At the station he hops onto the Yamanote line and rides it squashed beside a mom and her two kids. Eyes unfocused, brain buzzing.

Eventually, the train rumbles into a familiar station and Rin gets off and speeds through the streets under the watch of judgmental skyscrapers. _WAKANA TEMPURA: TOKYO HEADQUARTERS_ gleams silver.

He busts through the entrance, out of breath.

“Just one moment, please,” says the receptionist, holding up a finger with the landline to her ear.

He stops and stands, tapping the counter with his index finger, slowing his breaths and heart beat.

A click, and she hangs up. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Is Yamazaki Sousuke here?” Rin asks. “He’s in finance.”

“I believe so, but let me check.” She picks up the phone and dials something before Rin can stop her. They wait in silence before there’s the scarcest murmur of a voice on the other end. “Hello, Yamazaki-kun? Someone’s here to see you.” Another pause as she listens to the reply. She covers the mouthpiece and looks at Rin. “He says he doesn’t have any appointments scheduled for today.”

“I know. It’s an emergency.”

“He says it’s an emergency,” she relates to the phone, then asks Rin, “what is your name?”

“Matsuoka Rin.”

She repeats this. Silence.

Another tick of silence, and she says, “Yes, Yamazaki-kun.” She hangs up and looks up at Rin. “He says you may come up to his office. He said you’d know where it is.”

 _Typical that’s he’s not going meet me._ “Thank you,” he says anyway, and heads for the stairs instead of the elevator. The receptionist’s typing resumes.

He jogs up the stairs to the second floor, following his vague mental map of the last time he was here. Footsteps muffled on carpet, he passes a printing room and a break room, French cappuccino wafting toward him, and recognizes where he is. Sure enough, up ahead is a door with _YAMAZAKI_ on the label.

Pulse quick in his veins, Rin knocks.

“Yeah.”

Inside slouches Yamazaki at his desk with a flat expression, a half-empty cup of black coffee sat in front of him. In the time since Rin last saw him, dark circles have developed under his eyes.

“Matsuoka,” Yamazaki says, tightly.

Rin does not offer a greeting and shuts the door behind himself. “So, I saw the logo samples.”

“Yes.” The _And?_ hangs in the air.

“How come you’re not using the name Wakamatsu and you’re using Wakana instead? I thought in the contract we agreed the name would become Wakamatsu.”

Slowly, Yamazaki picks up his coffee and takes a long drink. “It’s just a sample,” he says, setting the cup down. “We’ll use Wakamatsu in the finished product. Right now we’re just gauging how you feel about the design itself.”

“Why not just go ahead and use Wakamatsu in the first place? I don’t get it.”

“Does it really matter? The name will change anyway.”

Rin grits his teeth.

“Anyway.” Yamazaki takes another sip. “If you don’t have any issues with the design itself, just check in with your mother and pick one. Matsuoka-san has seen them, right?”

Blood rushes to Rin’s head. He snaps, “How come she’s Matsuoka-san?”

“What?”

“How come she’s Matsuoka-san and I’m just Matsuoka?”

Yamazaki sighs. “Okay, you know what—” He crumples the coffee cup and hurls it at the wastebasket, and Rin clamps down the instinct to step back. “You show up with no warning claiming it’s an emergency to complain about something that’s not even a problem and could’ve been answered with an email, but I’m the rude one?” His voice rises, and there’s an unfamiliar pull to it—a dialect Rin can’t place. “Your mother has been nothing but nice and helpful while you’ve been unpleasant and rude and constantly working against me when all I’m trying to do is help you. So yeah, I don’t respect you enough to call you by an honorific because it’s obvious you don’t respect me. Sue me.”

Flailing for something in response, Rin retorts, “Oh, thanks. Grateful for all your _help._ ”

“ _You_ asked for help! _You_ contacted us!”

“My sister did, not me!” Rin shouts. “She did it without talking to me! I never wanted anything to do with you!” His throat tightens. The words spill out, weak and trembling. “It… It was my dad’s restaurant, and it's the only thing left of…”

The office hums with silence, and tears welling up, Rin angles his face away from Yamazaki and wipes at his eyes. He sniffs and swallows down the lump in his throat. The carpet at his feet has a small stain, likely from coffee, dark brown splattered on charcoal gray.

The silence persists another breath more, before quietly, Yamazaki says, “Maybe someone else should work with you instead.”

Sniffing again, Rin backs out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Down the stairs, past the lobby, out into the sunshine and chill outside. Train back to Shibuya. His eyes ache by the time he returns to work.

“Oh, hey,” says the guy behind the counter. He frowns. “Are you okay?”

Avoiding the guy’s eyes, Rin says, “I’m fine.” He heads to the back bathroom, where he steadies himself against the sink and wills the tears away. Eyes still conspicuously red, he returns to the front to stand and take people’s orders, alone when the other guy takes his break.

The rest of the day passes without them speaking about anything other than work related things, and Rin returns to his apartment around eleven, drained. He showers and flops into bed with damp hair. Exhaling deeply, he shuts his eyes, the lamp casting a warm orange over his eyelids.

His phone buzzes beside him.

At first, he ignores it, remaining still with eyes shut, but when it buzzes again, he reluctantly picks it up. Piles of messages from his mom, Gou, and Makoto. He selects _Soul Only._

**Sakura:** **Hey is there any chance that you would want to meet up? Right now everything is kind of a mess for me and I don’t have anyone to talk to and there’s too much to type out**

**Sakura:** **If you don’t want to, that’s cool, I understand**

When the message isn’t immediately read, Rin sets aside his phone and rubs his eyes, nerves jumbled in his stomach.

The phone buzzes. He snatches it up.

 **_Negi_ ** **has sent you a message!**

**Negi:** **Sure but I charge 100 yen a minute for listening**

Rin smiles.

**Sakura:** **Fine, forget it you jerk**

**Negi:** **I’m kidding**

**Negi:** **I’m down, I have a lot of stuff I want to talk about too**

**Sakura:** **Cool**

**Sakura:** **I don’t have work next Thursday**

**Negi:** **I work all weekdays so I can’t do Thursdays**

**Sakura:** **Hm**

**Sakura:** **I get out earlier on this Sunday, could you do something around 8-9 pm then?**

**Negi:** **This Sunday? Yeah**

**Negi:** **Where do you want to meet**

**Sakura:** **How about Shibuya? There’s a nice cafe I’ve been to that’s surprisingly not too crowded**

**Negi:** **Okay sounds good**

**Negi:** **I’ll wear my Chicago Bulls basketball jersey so you know it’s me**

**Sakura:** **Typical**

**Negi:** **Oh and I know you’re shallow so don’t worry, I am very hot**

**Sakura:** **Fuck you**

**Negi:** **;)**

**Sakura:** **Shut UP**

**Sakura:** **I’ll wear a shirt with a skull on it so you know it’s me**

**Negi:** **Typical**

**Negi:** **Guess I’ll see you then**

**Sakura:** **Yeah, I’ll send you the address of the cafe**

**Negi:** **Cool**

**Negi:** **Goodnight**

**Sakura:** **Goodnight**

Exiting the app, Rin checks his alarm for tomorrow morning and sets the phone beside his bed. With a flick of the light, he settles back and curls an arm around the covers. His muscles relax and soften, sleep coming to him within minutes.

The next day at work goes as usual, early morning to night beside Hazuki again, taking orders and cleaning and organizing. He sends off a link to the cafe for tomorrow to Negi and goes to bed Saturday night with too much energy.

Sunday morning he wakes a little later than usual at six, and in filmy morning light, he stuffs a pair of ripped black jeans and his skull shirt into his backpack alongside his uniform for work.

“Hiya!” Hazuki chirps when he shows up at work, as always frighteningly energetic so early in morning.

“Hey,” Rin replies.

The day goes slowly, with the restaurant generally quiet on Sunday morning except for the occasional hungover straggler from clubbing last night. Rin busies himself with anything he can find—washing windows, wiping tables, rearranging dishes—too much energy trapped in his chest.

Eventually, they close up at eight and clean up for the night. Once everything is clean and in order around 8:45, Rin changes out of his uniform and into his ripped jeans, leather jacket, and skull shirt.

“Ooh, you look nice!” Hazuki coos when he steps out. “Hot date?”

“ _No._ ” Rin slides his backpack over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye!”

Outside on the way to the cafe, cold seeps in through the rips of his jeans, but he grits his teeth and bears it, knowing how damn good he looks in them. He arrives at the little cafe, tucked up in a narrow street with a neon sign, at 8:54. He enters and takes in the people sat at the little tables. No one with a Chicago Bulls shirt. He unzips his jacket so his skull shirt is visible but no one gives him more than a passing glance.

Instead of sitting, Rin orders one black coffee at the counter and with the mug warming his hands, he chooses a table in direct view of the entrance. He blows at the coffee, steam tickling his face. With another scan over everyone, he pulls out his phone and finds a message from Negi from ten minutes earlier.

**Negi:** **Hey I’m going to be late, I swear I’m not blowing you off I just got on the wrong train**

**Sakura:** **What the fuck, how? It’s Shibuya, just get on the Yamanote line like everyone else**

**Negi:** **Look I’m from Nagano okay**

**Sakura:** **I mean I assume Nagano still has trains though**

**Sakura:** **Also haven’t you been living in Tokyo since you started college?? That’s like 7 years**

**Negi:** **Look my hometown is very small and we only have one platform**

**Negi:** **Not like the 4000 lines you have here**

**Sakura:** **Sure**

**Negi:** **Shut up I’ll be there soon**

Rin checks the door again, needlessly, and gets comfortable. The energy in his chest has yet to release, so he listens to some fast-paced, high energy songs to pass the time while sipping his coffee. Already, he regrets ordering non-decaf with his heart in his chest thumping faster.

The cafe door opens—a mom with her middle school age kid. Rin checks his watch. 9:17. Sat down, he bounces his leg.

Another few dings of the door’s bell. People exiting, people entering. Rin scrolls through his playlist.

_Ding._

Of all people on this fucking planet, Yamazaki steps in, chin tucked into the collar of a black jacket. His eyes meet Rin’s. Instant ice seeps into his expression, and without saying anything, he sits down at a random table. _Of course_ he _has to be here right now,_ Rin thinks, pointedly focusing on his phone with Yamazaki shouldering out of his jacket in his periphery.

Yamazaki doesn’t approach the counter to order anything, instead remaining at his table across from Rin and typing something on his phone. Rin presses out a breath and wills himself to relax, turning up the volume of his playlist.

The door opens, and Rin’s eyes dart up—an elderly businessman readjusting his glasses. For a second Rin is terrified the old man is Negi and this whole time he’s been duped into liking someone old enough to be his grandpa, but the old man merely orders a drink to go and immediately leaves.

Rin’s phone buzzes. He pauses his playlist to focus.

**Negi:** **Where are you**

**Sakura:** **I’m at the cafe? I’m sitting right by the door so you can’t miss me**

**Sakura:** **Are you sure you’re at the right place**

**Negi:** **Yeah, Iman Cafe**

**Sakura:** **Yeah come on in**

**Negi:** **I’m already inside**

 **But I haven’t seen** Rin begins to type, but his eyes flick up. Across from him, Yamazaki is scanning the cafe with a frown, phone in one hand. 

Yamazaki wears a red t-shirt with white trim, the word _BULLS_ above a large _23._

At the same instant, Yamazaki’s gaze stops on Rin, eyes dropping to the front of his shirt.

Hissing and whirring of the coffee machine.

Frozen, Rin gapes, voice dead in his throat. Yamazaki blinks, face slack.

Rin yanks out his earbuds and jumps to his feet. Yamazaki awkwardly pushes back his chair with a screech and stands. They face each other, waiting for the ice to break.

Rin shakes his head. “You’re… You’re not…”

Yamazaki opens his mouth, shuts it. His eyes flicker between the floor and Rin. “Are you… Sakura…?”

Rin’s stomach drops. Tick, tick, tick of his heartbeat. The cafe around them moves as usual around them, slow and unreal.

Pressing out a shaky breath, Rin snatches up his jacket and and phone, zipping the jacket over his shirt. He breezes out the door without another look at Yamazaki, who does nothing but stand and watch him go. Cold intrudes through the rips in his jeans again.

Rin returns to his apartment without memory of his train ride and walk there. He stomps through the hall in the dark. He trips on a box.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he snarls, kicking the box back.

Something else in the pile of stuff thuds in response. He groans and leaves that for tomorrow’s him, making a beeline for his room and flopping facedown on the bed. For a minute, he does not move, then he sits up and pulls out his phone. Out of habit, he selects _Soul Only_ and goes straight to his conversation with Negi, only to stop.

_Yamazaki is Negi._

Rin throws aside his phone and buries his face in his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the one thing i always wanted out of 'you've got mail' is for them to both meet when they still hate each other, so i'm making my own dreams come true
> 
> [i can't quit - the vaccines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6z6wMZAYaxE&list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m&index=6&t=0s)
> 
> [full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m)
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	6. out of the frying pan, into the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> started at the bottom and we've somehow gotten lower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: there's a reference to "Ni-Chome" in this chapter, which is a part of shinjuku which has a lot of lgbt businesses like bars, clubs, restaurants, bookstores etc. it would have been awkward pacing to stop and exposit what it is, so when you see it, that's what it is.

A knock at Sousuke’s office door. 

“Yamazaki-kun, could you check these numbers for me?” Satou hands over a thick manila folder. “I’ll need them back by Thursday.” 

Sousuke takes them from her with a nod. “Will do.” 

With a snap of the door, he’s alone again, his laptop glowing bright and searing his eyes no matter how low he turns down the brightness. He sighs and drops Satou’s files into his wire  _ TO DO _ basket alongside four other files. 

He returns to the file at hand, an overview of the past month’s expenses for Wakana’s Kanda location, cross-checking it with the projected amount on his laptop. Eyes aching, he tap, tap, taps on his calculator, writing down sums in the margins to add to a spreadsheet later. 

An hour or two later, he takes a break, standing to stretch and fetch a cup of coffee from the break room. At this time of night, most people have already left, the hallway eerily dark and silent. Technically, no one is supposed to use the coffee maker once official work hours are over, but Sousuke figures if he cleans it himself before the new day tomorrow, then it’s fine. The break room lights hum overhead as the coffee machine rumbles. 

Hot cup in hand, Sousuke flicks off the light and returns to his office. He drinks his coffee for energy rather than enjoyment tonight, wincing as it scalds his tongue and immediately crumpling up the cup. The stacks waiting for him remind him this probably won’t be his last coffee of the night, so he uncrumples the cup and sets it on the desk so he can reuse it later. 

Sousuke sinks into his chair and rubs his eyes. Out of habit, he pulls out his phone and ignores his emails and texts for  _ Soul Only. _ The app loads, and he remembers: Matsuoka is Sakura. 

The night after the failed and successful meetup, Sousuke went back through their messages to each other, searching for clues he missed along the way. Sakura had mentioned a family business with his mom and sister, complained about a new coworker, complained about  _ Sousuke. _ But despite seeing the connections with fresh eyes, Sousuke doesn’t hear Matsuoka in Sakura’s words, can’t match up the two. On top of that, Sousuke himself is wide open. He entrusted Sakura with his frustration over his job, his struggles with his sexuality, but his skin crawls at the thought of Matsuoka knowing so much about him and his insecurities. 

Since the cafe, he hasn’t seen Matsuoka or spoken to him, assigning someone else on his floor to managing their merger the following day. He still received an email from the Matsuokas’ mother telling him they will be attending the sixtieth anniversary gala this upcoming Saturday. She didn’t mention Matsuoka by name, but Sousuke figured he’s included in the “we,” so he’s been mentally preparing to see him again. So far he’s run through ninety scenarios of how an interaction between them would pan out, but Sousuke can’t think of what he would say to him. The most preferable scenario is the one where Sousuke doesn’t go to the stupid fucking gala at all and spends his Saturday evening in his apartment, completely alone. 

Sousuke locks his phone and drops it on the desk. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his calculator again. 

The night continues. Sousuke makes three more trips to the coffee machine and washes it out before glancing at his watch and realizing he missed the last train. There’s still a lot of work to get through so he pushes on a little longer until the numbers and words turn fuzzy. He rolls up his suit jacket into a makeshift pillow and flicks off the overhead, covering his torso with his down winter jacket. His eyes shut, and he’s asleep within minutes.

His first alarm blares a short few hours later. He goes through four alarms before finally sitting up, disoriented for a second. He gradually rises to his feet and stretches, back aching from sleeping on the hard carpet. Once he flicks on and grimaces at the overhead, he scours the office for his storage of necessities: fresh clothes, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor. 

Yawning, he heads out into the chilly, dark early morning to the gym a couple of blocks over. The space is deserted except for the couple of employees, so Sousuke has the men’s showers to himself. Fresh out of the shower, he faces his exhausted eyes in the mirror. Stubble already tracks along his jaw and upper lip. Back in high school, his fast growing facial hair was a source of pride, making him seem more adult and manly, but now when he must be clean shaven every day, it’s a pain in the ass. 

He slathers his face in shaving cream and begins shaving. Halfway done, he works around his mouth. A burst of pain at the corner of his mouth. Red bubbles up. “ _ Shit. _ ” Sousuke snatches up some toilet paper and presses it to the cut, blood seeping into the white. He waits a minute for the blood to slow and inspects the damage. An angry red slash to the side of his mouth. 

Sighing, he washes out the razor. 

When his face is clean with no other cuts and he’s brushed his teeth and changed into a new suit, he leaves the gym to grab a small breakfast at the 7-Eleven on the way back to Wakana’s Headquarters. He arrives as employees are filing in at their regular times. 

“Good morning,” some of them say to him, unaware that he never left. 

Back to work. 

He’s deep in Satou’s files when there’s a new knock at his door. “Yeah?” 

Isuzu pokes her head in. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were in today.” 

“Yep. Want to get lunch?” 

He checks his watch, having lost any sense of time. “Yeah, sure.” 

Jacket on and wallet and phone in his pockets, he follows her out of his office. 

“You look terrible,” she notes, holding open the stairwell door for him. “Nice cut.”

“Thanks a lot.” 

Isuzu purses her lips in amusement. “Late night?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ooh.”

“Not like that.”

“Not like  _ what? _ ” 

“You know what. No, I was here.”

“Hooking up with someone  _ here? _ Wow, I never expected that from you.” 

“Shut up. I mean I was working late.” 

She laughs, hopping down a step.

After getting their food to go, they return to the building and eat on the floor in Isuzu’s office. 

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Sousuke says, taking a sip of green tea. “You’re going to the gala Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“Okay, good. I know Seijuurou has that conference in Osaka, so I was worried it was just going to be me and Momo. And Nanase.” 

Isuzu barks a laugh. “Yeah, that would be terrible for you. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” She leans back on her hands and watches Sousuke take a bite. “Actually, about that… You remember what I told you about my sort-of girlfriend?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, well… She’s actually going to be at the gala, so.” 

“What?” Sousuke lowers his chopsticks. “You invited her to that trainwreck?” 

“Technically, you invited her.” 

“Huh?” 

“You know Matsuoka Kou? Yeah…” 

Sousuke is silent a breath, head spinning. “Wait,  _ what? _ You…?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know, it just… happened like that, I guess.” 

She takes a bite of food. Sousuke sits still. 

“Wait, but—Is she okay with me knowing who she is? Last I heard—” He stops, memories flooding to the surface of a conversation with Sakura— _ Matsuoka _ —about how his sister constantly makes jokes about him being gay, and also how he’s suspected she might not be straight. But earlier Isuzu said her sort-of girlfriend was experiencing issues with her family as well. “I mean—Earlier you said she was unsure about it. I don’t know how she feels about coming out to people.” 

“Look at you, being so respectful to us gays,” Isuzu says, whacking him on the arm. “She said it’s fine for close friends to know, and you’re a close friend, so.” 

“Yeah, but… I’m not just a close friend. She works for us. I know who she is.” 

“Well, as long as you don’t tell a bunch of people about it, you should be fine. You can keep a secret, right?” 

He pastes on a smile. “Yeah.” 

Unwittingly, his mind returns to Matsuoka, considering whether Matsuoka also knows his sister and Isuzu are sort-of dating. 

The work day continues as normal, nothing else of interest. Sousuke still has work left over when most people are leaving, so he ducks out for a quick dinner. Wind pierces through him, the cut by his mouth stinging. 

He spends another night in the office, working well past the last train and eventually passing out at his desk. Early the next morning, he opens his drawer to remember he only has the two suits with him, so his only option is to change back into the now wrinkled suit from two days before. After showering at the gym, Sousuke shaves, carefully avoiding the red and inflamed cut by his mouth.

Sousuke spends the morning in his office like usual, typing and calculating. After lunch, he remembers Satou’s files are due today, so he pulls them together and sets off through the maze of cubicles, ringing phones and clicking keyboards filling his ears. He mistakes where Satou’s cubicle is and must backtrack, eventually making it to Satou’s cubicle, where she talks on the phone at her desk. 

Noticing him, she holds up a finger. “Yes, of course, Fujiwara-san…” 

Sousuke waits outside. 

“Yes. Yes. Of course. I will email you by Monday.” A click as Satou hangs up. She wheels around to face Sousuke. “Yes?” 

“Here are the files you wanted done by today,” Sousuke says, offering them out to her. 

Slowly, she takes them, frowning over the text. “Did I say today? I meant  _ next _ Thursday, not today Thursday.” 

He blinks. 

“Sorry to make you do all that so quickly.” She turns back to her desktop and begins typing. “Thanks, though.” 

“Right.” Even though she isn’t looking at him, Sousuke dips his head as he backs out. 

At the end of the work day, he finally returns home, his apartment a relief to see after the nights spent in his office. He tosses out some food that went rotten in his absence and wipes down the counters for dust, but otherwise indulges in the newfound pleasures of having his own shower and sleeping in a real bed. The pleasure ends when he wakes the next morning at his usual time for work and must join the swarm on the train like always. 

Midway through his second cup of coffee for the day, his phone rings. “Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me,” says his dad. “Can you come to the test kitchen on the fifth floor? I want to go over the menu for tomorrow with you and Haruka.” 

Sousuke hesitates a moment. “Yeah, I’ll be there right away.” 

“Great.”  _ Click. _

Within five minutes, Sousuke stands alone in the test kitchen, leaning on the counter. He absentmindedly fiddles with his tie, rolling it up and straightening it out again and again. 

After ten minutes, his dad walks in. “Hey.” He lugs a large box in, and Sousuke jumps to take it from him. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah,” Sousuke says, setting the box down on the counter and eyeing his dad. He seems more tired than normal, lines on his face more severe and his eyes drooping, but Sousuke knows better than to ask. 

His dad checks his watch. “We’ll wait for Haruka and then we’ll start. Go ahead and wash up, we’re going to do a test run.” 

Obedient, Sousuke places his suit jacket on one of the kitchen chairs and rolls up the sleeves of his button down to wash his hands. He flicks off the water and leans into the counter again. 

He and his dad don’t speak the whole ten minutes they wait before Nanase trudges in without a hello. 

“Alright, let’s go through the menu,” says Sousuke’s dad, rifling through the box of ingredients. 

It’s a simple recreation of their usual menu, just stretched out to feed hundreds of guests at once. They delineate their roles, and Sousuke’s is to stand over the fryer and turn the vegetables and meat into tempura. The food for the gala will be prepped ahead of time so the three of them can do the least amount of work while still putting on the show. 

When they have several plates of all of the practice dishes, Sousuke’s dad tastes them. Chewing on a fried piece of squash, he says to Sousuke, “Watch how long you leave these in. They’re a little overdone.” 

_ Not my fault Nanase cut them so thin,  _ Sousuke thinks, but he says, “Right.” 

His dad only takes a bite or two out of each. The rest he deems acceptable and dumps out in the trash. “I have a meeting I need to get to, so could you two clean up?” He slides on his own suit jacket and buttons it up.

Sousuke nods, wordlessly. Nanase does nothing. 

“Thanks. See you two at the event center tomorrow afternoon. Don’t be late.” 

The door shuts behind him, leaving behind the aroma of fried things and silence. The two of them start cleaning up the fryer and utensils used, both of them deciding on their own tasks. 

After cleaning out the fryer, Sousuke goes to toss the uneaten leftover pieces of meat and vegetable. 

“Wait,” Nanase calls. “It’s better to save those.” 

Sousuke pauses, hovering over the trash. “Do you want these?” 

“Yeah, I’ll take them. Just leave them on the counter.” 

“Okay.”

Sousuke leaves them there and finishes cleaning up what was his. Shaking off water droplets from his hand, he says, “Well. See you.” 

Nanase is bent over a cutting board, scrubbing it clean. “Yeah.” 

The door echoes down the hallway. 

Sousuke finishes up his work around dinner time, with multiple texts from Momo begging him to go to a bar with him. He replies he’s tired, maybe next week, and boards the train back for Kichijoji. Once back at his apartment, he flops down on his bed and stares up at the ceiling, too tired to do anything but not tired enough to sleep. 

After making a small dinner from what he scrounges out from his refrigerator, Sousuke goes to bed early. His eyes ache, but the knowledge of the gala tomorrow clings to his mind and keeps him awake. Streetlight shifts on his shades. 

He must eventually fall asleep, because his alarm wakes him at 9:30 Saturday morning. A dull dread stirs his insides from when he forces down breakfast to when he goes for a quick run around the park, growing when he returns and showers. Fresh and scrubbed, he shaves. He’s not supposed to arrive for the gala’s preparation until 4:00, so he putters around his apartment. His willpower crumbles and for something to, he hops down to the nearest convenience store and buys a pack of cigarettes. He hasn’t smoked in at least a year, so the first drag feels both weird and familiar. He instantly regrets the purchase, but he finishes the cigarette anyway, smushing it into the tray on his apartment’s tiny balcony. 

At last he heads down to the station and gets on the Chuo line, which is less crowded than it is at morning and at night, and eventually switches lines for Ginza. He’s never been to the event center where the gala is to be held, so he follows a map there and reaches it relatively painlessly with only two wrong turns. 

Inside the front entrance of a huge, impressive building sits a young woman at an information desk. 

“Excuse me,” Sousuke says. “I’m from Wakana Tempura, what room are we in?”

“Are you a part of the set-up team?” 

“Yes.” 

“ID, please?” 

Sousuke presents his residence card, but she shakes his head. 

“No, set-up team ID.” 

“We don’t have a card…”

“Well, you’re supposed to. Regrettably, I cannot let you in without an invite or an ID.” 

Sousuke rests his hand on the desk and taps a finger. “Look, uh, I’m Yamazaki Sousuke,” he says, hating that he’s having to pull this out, “and my dad is Yamazaki Iwao, one of the owners of Wakana Tempura.” 

“That is all well and good, but I still cannot let you in without an ID.” 

Pressing his lips together to keep his mouth shut, Sousuke nods and steps back. He pulls out his phone and calls his dad’s cell number. Rings until the message machine picks up. “ _ Shit, _ ” Sousuke hisses to himself, receiving a look of disdain from the woman at the desk. He redials. This time, the other end clicks on the third ring. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” Sousuke says. “I’m at the event center, but they won’t let me in without an ID card.” 

“Didn’t I give you yours yesterday?” 

“No?” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll come down and get you in a minute.” 

“Okay.” His dad has already hung up. 

Sousuke waits there with arms folded, the woman at the desk typing away at her computer. Five minutes pass. The elevator dings, and out comes Sousuke’s dad, wearing the blue chef uniform with Wakana’s logo at the breast pocket. 

“Hey,” Sousuke says, trying to not sound too relieved. 

His dad smiles and offers his own ID card to the woman at the desk. “Sorry, he’s with us. Forgot to give him a card.” 

She bows her head. “Yes, of course.”

Sousuke follows his dad to the elevator and they ride up to the sixth floor in silence. They arrive at a hallway with crisp white floors and head into room 6A, where the high ceilings echo with people setting up tables and chairs. 

“Here,” Sousuke’s dad says, leading Sousuke through the bustle to tables sat before a podium. He grabs something and tosses it to Sousuke. “Put this on.” 

Sousuke unfurls it, finding an identical uniform to the one his dad is already wearing. He goes to say something, but with a “Yamazaki-san!” from someone at a different table, his dad dashes off. 

Sousuke scans the hall for bathrooms and heads for the men’s. Along the way, Nanase passes him, also wearing the same blue uniform. Their eyes meet and they say nothing. 

Once Sousuke is changed, he takes his spot next to Nanase at the tables where they will serve food. They prep. His dad bounces around the space, talking with the Mikoshiba’s dad, with the staff setting up, and an hour or two passes before he checks in on Sousuke and Nanase. Isuzu and Momo drift by to say hi, but are wrangled into something by their dad. Sousuke’s watch ticks closer and closer to the beginning of the event, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier. He should feel hungry by this time, but his stomach churns too uncomfortably. 

Around 6:30, Sousuke’s dad joins him and Nanase in preparing the meal, with the guests to start coming in a half an hour. Mindlessly, Sousuke watches things bubble in boiling oil. 

The hall is settled with tables and chairs sat around the room, pamphlets and menus about Wakana Tempura placed everywhere. 

Sousuke’s dad checks his watch. “Time for Hidenori and I to welcome people in,” he says, washing off his hands. “You two keep working.” 

He heads for the door, where Mikoshiba waits. They open the doors, and people begin to enter. 

With the new buzzing of voices and pattering of feet on the wood floor, Sousuke zeros his attention on vegetables and meats before him. His eyes wander up, nevertheless, finding various businessmen and investors filing in, his dad and the Mikoshibas’ greeting them and shaking their hands. 

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes after the doors open, Sousuke glances up from a batch of chicken. Milling around the hall amongst all the other guests are the Matsuokas, the mother in a sensible cream dress, the sister in blue, and Matsuoka with a black suit and his hair tied into a small ponytail. Sousuke pauses, his hands greasy. Matsuoka’s gaze spans over the ceiling and across the tables. His eyes land on Sousuke. 

Sousuke ducks his head down and pokes at one of the pieces of chicken with a pair of tongs, well aware they’re not done yet. 

When the room is almost to capacity and the food is ready, Sousuke’s dad returns. 

“Let those cool while we give the speech,” he says, gesturing to the batches. 

Nanase and Sousuke wash off their hands and follow him up to the podium, where Mikoshiba Hidenori, Momo, and Isuzu are waiting. In a dark pinstripe suit with a bowtie, Isuzu smiles at Sousuke and winks. He smiles back, but wipes the smile off as he steps beside his dad. 

“May I have your attention,” his dad says into the mic. The murmuring peters off. “I want to thank you all for joining us today, we are so grateful. As you know, Wakana Tempura is now sixty years old.” 

Polite applause. Sousuke’s face burns with the bright lights on him, Matsuoka a dark form in the distance. 

“Wakana Tempura was first created by my father, Yamazaki Jiro, in the mountains of rural Nagano. This is where I grew up and took over when I was old enough, and this is where my sons grew up.” He claps a hand on Sousuke’s shoulder and Nanase’s shoulder on his other side. 

He  _ grew up in Tokyo, _ Sousuke mentally corrects, tensing at the touch. 

“It was over ten years ago when my good friend Mikoshiba Hidenori, then a businessman looking for somewhere to invest his money in, happened upon our little restaurant and thought it was some of the best tempura he’s ever had. The rest, they say, is history.” 

He delves into how Wakana is now a famous company all throughout Japan, how their successes were unpredicted, how their goal now is to spread into international territory. Sousuke checks out and doesn’t listen, sweat building up at the small of his back. 

“Now, we invite you to enjoy some of the staples from our menu, hand crafted by myself and my two sons. Drink, talk, eat, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Applause again. 

A photographer join them on the podium, snapping pictures of Sousuke’s dad with Mikoshiba, all five of them, and lastly, Sousuke’s dad with Sousuke and Nanase. The continuous flashing singes Sousuke’s eyes. He stiffly stands on his dad’s side, not bothering to hold a smile. 

The photographer flicks them a thumbs up, and blinking away his discolored vision, Sousuke follows his dad down from the podium. Light classical music replaces his dad’s voice in the speakers. A line forms at the table and the three of them begin plating, with Sousuke as the one to hand off completed plates. He finds a groove, following guests’ orders on autopilot. He hands plates off to Mikoshiba Hidenori, Momo, Isuzu, other people he recognizes from work.

“Hello,” says the Matsuokas’ mother, smiling as she reaches him. “Thanks for inviting us.” 

“Of course.” He hands her completed plate off to her. 

A few people down in line, the sister. She smiles at him too and he returns the smile, but he cannot gauge from her expression alone whether she knows what Isuzu has told him. She leaves with her plate without saying anything. 

More plates. The line continues. 

Sousuke’s gut twists, Matsuoka stepping up to the other end of the table. Sousuke hands off the next couple of plates, eyes on the people in front of him, until Matsuoka arrives and he cannot ignore him any longer.

Matsuoka barely glances up. “Shrimp.” 

Sousuke plucks up shrimp from the platter in front of him. 

As he drops the shrimp onto the plate, Matsuoka asks, “Do you actually know how to cook?” 

Not surprised Matsuoka can somehow see through the charade of him, Nanase, and his dad cooking together, Sousuke hands back the plate and says, “Who do you think worked at the first Wakana Tempura?” 

Matsuoka doesn’t reply. Plate in hand, he steps out of line, heading off into the room.

Sousuke takes the next man’s plate from Nanase. 

The line dwindles and people take to seats and standing, so with the first rush over, a couple of different employees replace Sousuke, his dad, and Nanase so they can eat and schmooze. Or rather, so Sousuke’s dad can schmooze and Sousuke and Nanase can lurk without saying a word. Around the room they go, talking to investors, and Sousuke keeps his attention away from Matsuoka, whose presence gleams like a beacon no matter where Sousuke stands. 

Nanase vanishes off somewhere, so now Sousuke is alone with his dad. After saying farewell to a couple of older guys, his dad pats Sousuke on the shoulder. 

“Go thank the Matsuokas for coming,” he says without looking at Sousuke, waving to some other guy across the room. “See if they need anything, you know.” 

“Right.” Reluctantly, Sousuke peels away, weaving through tables and people to find the table where the Matsuokas sit. 

The mother is in conversation with the sister, the back of her head to Sousuke, so it is the sister who spots him first. On her side sits Matsuoka, his arms folded over his chest. 

“Oh, hello, Yamazaki-kun!” says the mother, facing him. 

“Hello.” He stops, standing to the side of their table. “My father and Mikoshiba-san wanted to thank you for coming. They really appreciate it. Is there anything you need? Anything I could do for you?”

“Oh, that’s so nice! Um, I think we’re good, yeah? We’re just having a nice time. The food was great, by the way! Didn’t know you also cooked.” 

“Yeah, I don’t have much time to these days.”

“I see. That makes sense.”

Pause. A swaying string waltz plays through the speakers. 

Sousuke scratches the back of his neck, feeling Matsuoka’s eyes on him. “Well, uh…” 

Someone elbows Sousuke in the side. “Hey, buddy,” says Isuzu, grinning up at him. She turns her grin to the Matsuokas. “And hello, everyone! Thanks for coming!”

The mother smiles, the sister offers a tiny nod of her head, and Matsuoka does not react at all. Isuzu shows no signs of discomfort, sinking into her hip and shoving her hands in the pockets of her pinstripe pants. 

“This song kind of slaps,” she notes, bobbing her head to the waltz. “Kou-chan, want to dance?” 

The sister’s eyes widen. “Uh—What? But… No one else is dancing.” 

“So? Their loss.” 

Squirming in her seat, the sister looks down, her face red. “Um… Okay, then.” 

Isuzu hops over to her with a smile and offers out a hand, and after a breath of hesitation, the sister takes it and stands. They move away from the traffic of people, and Isuzu puts her hands to the sister’s waist, guiding her into rhythm. Sousuke, the Matsuokas’ mother, and Matsuoka aren’t the only ones watching—a couple of heads turn and a different tone of chatter fills the air. 

The mother faces her meal and takes a sip of water. “Anyway, um, Yamazaki-kun.” 

Sousuke jerks himself out of his thoughts. “Yes?” 

“It’s too bad you’re no longer in charge of our merger! I mean, Arikawa-san is very nice but we definitely miss you. Though obviously, you’re very busy, so I imagine you can’t do every project.” 

Matsuoka keeps his head turned toward his sister and Isuzu. 

Sousuke swallows and fakes a smile. “I’m sorry, too. I hope it’s going well.”

Across the hall, Isuzu and the sister loosen up, adding in some twirls to their dancing. The sister still looks embarrassed, but she’s not uncomfortable, laughing when Isuzu drops her into a low dip. 

“Well, I’ll see you.” Sousuke bows his head and backs away. He scans the tables and clusters of people, spotting his dad now sitting at a table with Mikoshiba and Momo. 

“Hey,” Sousuke says, sliding into the seat beside his dad. 

The attention of the conversation is elsewhere, however, furtive whispers between his dad and Mikoshiba. Momo stares down at the table, uncharacteristically silent. 

Setting down a glass, Mikoshiba stands and sets across the hall. He approaches Isuzu and the younger Matsuoka, who stop dancing to listen. Sousuke can’t hear the conversation between them, but he can guess it. Isuzu grasps the sister’s hand and says something with a scowl, stepping in between her dad and the sister. 

Back and forth—her dad eventually shakes his head and backs away as if giving up, and Isuzu stares him down as he leaves, gradually deflating. She and the sister do not resume dancing. 

Mikoshiba returns to the table with Sousuke, Sousuke’s dad, and Momo with a tired look. “I said what needed to be said, but she’s not budging,” he sighs, plopping down into the seat beside Sousuke’s dad. “It’s time she grew up, but she’s too headstrong for her own good.” 

Sousuke’s dad shakes his head. “Unbelievable. This isn’t Ni-Chome.” 

Sousuke and Momo are silent. Across the hall, Isuzu and the sister resume dancing, slower. 

The conversation between Sousuke’s dad and Mikoshiba shifts elsewhere to Sousuke’s unhearing ears, his hands playing with the buttons of the Wakana uniform. 

Footsteps rush in. 

Halting beside Mikoshiba with a strand of hair loose from his ponytail, Matsuoka says, “What’s wrong with you?” 

Mikoshiba turns around in his chair and raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” 

“Why couldn’t you leave them alone? They weren’t doing anything inappropriate.” 

Mikoshiba’s eyes flicker to Sousuke’s dad, sharing a hint of humor. “This is an important business event. We don’t need to send that kind of message to our patrons and investors.” 

“ _ What _ kind of message?” 

“Look, if you want to be willfully obtuse, I suggest you leave it—” 

“No, I will  _ not. _ They’re not hurting anyone, they’re not damaging your product in any way, I don’t see why you have to—” 

Sousuke’s dad interjects, “Is the reason you’re so offended because you’re, ah… like them?” 

Sousuke’s stomach curdles. 

Matsuoka’s expression flattens, and he slowly pulls in a breath. “It doesn’t matter whether I am or not,” he says, quietly. “It’s just that I’m capable of being a compassionate human being.” 

Before anyone can respond, he darts off, slipping out of the hall and slamming the door behind himself. 

Sousuke’s dad shakes his head. “Maybe inviting them was a mistake,” he says. 

Perky violin warbles over the speakers. A spill of water marks a splash onto the white tablecloth. 

“Well, anyway,” Mikoshiba says. “I was talking to Watanabe, and…” 

Sousuke doesn’t listen. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he mutters, standing. No one notices. He weaves around the tables, his footsteps dampened by the din, and steps out the hall door. 

The hallway is empty, echoing. Matsuoka disrupts the sterile white walls and floor, sitting by himself against the wall with his head in his hands. His head pops up, eyes narrowing once he sees it’s Sousuke.

“What?” Matsuoka snaps. “Going to lecture me about how impulsive and naive I am? Because I already know.” 

Sousuke shakes his head, slowing to a stop a careful distance away. “No,” he says. “I just wanted to thank you. For sticking up for them.”  

Silent, Matsuoka searches Sousuke’s face before looking away. He wrings his hands. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I did it for you.” 

“I know.” 

Laughter from inside the hall travels down the hallway. 

Matsuoka blurts, “How can you stand it?” 

“Stand what?” 

“ _ That. _ ” He waves a hand at the door. “Especially when you’re—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. 

Sousuke fills in the blank. “It’s just work. That’s the way things are and there’s no point getting hung up on what I can’t change.” 

“Yeah, but how can you willingly support that?” 

“It’s my family.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

Sousuke clenches his jaw. Icily, he says, “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” He lifts his chin. “Anyway, didn’t you say you never got to tell your dad about being gay? He might’ve felt the same as my dad.” 

Jumping to his feet, Matsuoka grabs Sousuke’s collar. He snarls in Sousuke’s face, “You  _ asshole. _ ” 

Sousuke maintains his gaze, his pulse thumping in his ears. Beat, beat, beat, until Matsuoka shoves him. He steps back, hand smoothing down his black tie, and stalks off to the hall. A burst of flute pierces into the hallway as the door opens and shuts. 

Exhaling, Sousuke wilts, flattening out the rumple in his uniform. He stands, music and chatter and door waiting for him. 

“You asshole,” he repeats to himself. 

He turns from the gala and wanders down the hallway, finding the door to the balcony. Chilly air buffets him as he steps out, the uniform shirt providing barely any warmth. He leans into the ledge observes the skyline. Bright, colorful skyscrapers stand against a black sky. Down below, cars and trains and people move like little toys. Further in the distance, invisible in nighttime, are mountains marking the end of Tokyo. 

He shivers, goosebumps sprouting. 

The building’s warmth is welcoming when he eventually returns inside, smoothing away the goosebumps. Back in the hall, nothing much has changed, the same people talking about nothing, the same classical music playing overhead. Sousuke does not look for Matsuoka among the faces and returns to the table where his dad sits and talks. 

Eventually, people retire, the noise and crowding decreasing, Sousuke’s dad thanking people for attending. No more dramatic events happen before the Matsuokas’ mother comes to their table, her two kids already heading for the door. 

“Thank you for the invite,” she says, bowing. “We had a great time.” She follows after her kids without apologizing for either of them, and Sousuke is relieved. 

Once the guests are gone, Sousuke helps clean up. Nanase is still nowhere and his dad is busy elsewhere, so Sousuke works alongside a handful of nameless cooks, washing dishes and throwing things out. 

“You don’t need to stick around,” says one of them, taking a washed plate from Sousuke and drying it with a kitchen towel. “I think we’ve got it covered.” 

Sousuke shakes his head, lathering the next plate with soap. “No, it’s fine. I want to help.” 

The crew finishes up around midnight, and Sousuke changes back into his regular clothes, leaving the rumpled uniform for someone else to deal with. Outside has grown colder, but not as windy as up on the balcony. Sousuke tucks his chin into the collar of his jacket and sets a map ready for the station on his phone. 

Halfway there is a bench underneath a tree on the sidewalk, a small form sitting, slim legs in pinstripe. 

“Isuzu,” Sousuke says, stopping in his tracks. 

Tears sparkling on her cheeks under the light, she sniffs and sends him a small smile. “Hey,” she replies, voice thick. She wipes her face clean. 

Stowing his phone away, Sousuke inches closer and sits on the other end of the bench. “I thought you left earlier.” 

“Yeah, well, Dad had some stuff he wanted to talk with me about.” She delivers it lightly, but bitterness laces her words. 

“Oh. How… did that go?” 

“The usual.” She waves her hand and speaks to the tree branches above them. “I’m an embarrassment to him and the company, I need to stop playing around and settle down with a man so we can have kids and I can spend the rest of my life taking care of all of them.” Her hand falls to her lap. “Hey, remember when Sei was dating Tomi? And she and him danced with each other at that fundraiser event and no one said anything?” 

A bus rumbles past, coming to a stop down the street. People hop off and on. 

Isuzu stares out onto the road. More tears slip down her cheeks. “I know it’s stupid and naive of me to expect something different, but… I can’t help it.” She presses her lips together, and her glassy eyes rise to Sousuke. “Have I ever told you about what happened my first year of college?” 

She barrels on before he can respond. “I was really good friends with my roommate, and we also were close with the other girls on our floor. At some point after knowing each other for a while, I happened to mention liking girls, and her attitude to me totally changed. She got all cold and weird and the other girls started avoiding me too. And then one day I got a message from our dorm head that she had requested a room change. Without talking to me about it.” 

“Isuzu…” 

“I should be used to this by now, but I don’t know. I’m tired.” She swallows and looks forward. Her voice comes out small, bitterness leaking through once more: “You can’t understand.” 

Sousuke says nothing. 

They remain there until Isuzu sits up and wipes away her tears for good. She stands. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

She gets off at a different station from him, and Sousuke has the rest of the trip to himself, shoulder to shoulder with strangers. 

Sunday morning Sousuke wakes late with no work. He flicks on the bathroom light, his hair sticking out to one side, and brushes his teeth. He splashes water on his face and lathers his jaw with shaving cream. 

Razor held aloft. Eyes on the fading cut by his mouth. After a pause, he sets down the razor, washing off the shaving cream and letting the beginnings of stubble stay. 

The prickle of stubble remains until Monday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bad blood - taylor swift ft. kendrick lamar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcIy9NiNbmo&list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m&index=7&t=0s) lmaoo
> 
> [full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m)
> 
> [tumblr](http://broniichan.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


	7. turning point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our intrepid protagonists begin to realize that maybe they're the asshole

**Yuuta, 28**

**22 km away**

**Just looking for some fun lol ;)**

Rin’s thumb hovers over the screen. Deciding Yuuta is hot enough, he swipes right. **A MATCH!**

He doesn’t bother messaging Yuuta, continuing to comb through profiles, mostly swiping left. Some guy has a picture of a cat as his only picture, bio reading, **I don’t know why people put pictures of themselves winking or sticking out their tongue on here, like that’s so seductive. You look childish.**

Rin, remembering the multiple pictures on his own profile with a wink or his tongue sticking out, thinks, _Fucking get over yourself, dude._ He swipes left. 

 _Centurion_ is the exact opposite of _Soul Only_ in that it’s the kind of dating app where the person’s physical appearance comes first, and them as a person comes last. Rin has gone through cycles of downloading it and deleting it before, this being his fourth time downloading. He doesn’t really care about any of the guys on there, feeling dimly flattered with the influx of messages like, ‘you’re cute,’ ‘you’re hot,’ ‘damn we should hang out,’ but it’s something to do other than reply to any of the messages from his mom and Makoto.

He hasn’t deleted _Soul Only_ yet. It remains there, collecting dust, unopened since that one night in that cafe in Shibuya. 

 **_Yuuta_ ** **has sent you a message!**

Rin gives up on scrolling through profiles and goes to his messages, selecting Yuuta’s over the other boring conversations he’s had with other guys. 

**Yuuta:** **Hey what’s up**

**Rin:** **Just on my lunch break**

**Yuuta:** **Same lol. I’m a tech developer, what do you do?**

**Rin:** **I work at a restaurant**

**Yuuta:** **Oh cool**

**Yuuta:** **You’re hot btw, if you’re looking for something casual I’m down**

Rin ignores his mental image of Makoto warning him to be careful. 

**Rin:** **Yeah I’m done with work around 9 today if you want to meet up**

He breezes through the rest of work without speaking much to anyone, tuning out Hazuki’s chatter and diving full force into tasks. Every time the door opens, his eyes expect Yamazaki to walk in for another “check up.” But he never appears, and through Rin’s relieved, heat still coils in the pit of his stomach. He slams doors and drawers, imagining he’s slamming them on Yamazaki. 

“Oh, bye-bye, Rin-chan!” Hazuki calls as Rin leaves for the night. 

“Bye.” 

A short train ride later, he arrives at a small, smoky bar in Setagaya, where a guy stands outside, waiting. 

The guy’s head pops up. Same brown hair and eyes from the pictures. “Oh!” he says. “Rin?” 

“Yuuta.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Yuuta says, smiling. “I hope you didn’t rush too much to get here.” 

“No, don’t worry about it.” 

Yuuta nods, and there’s a pause, both of them sizing each other up. Inhaling, Yuuta gestures to the bar door. “Well, shall we?” 

They chat idly over a couple of drinks, Yuuta talking about his work, Rin talking about his family’s restaurant without mentioning Wakana Tempura. Yuuta seems nice, polite, so when he suggests they go somewhere else, Rin agrees. 

They go to a small hotel down the road and split the payment in half. The room is small, dim, but there’s no time to take in the scenery or chat. Rin’s had worse, but he’s had better, feeling as if he’s merely watching from the outside rather than experiencing it himself. 

When it’s over, he immediately gets up and begins putting on his clothes. 

Yuuta catches him by the wrist. “Wait,” he says, face slick with sweat. “You don’t have to leave so soon—Stay a little longer.” 

Rin shakes his head, buttoning his jeans. “I have work in the morning.” 

“I mean, so do I, but it’s not even eleven yet.” 

Rin bends down to pick up his shirt. “I’m not really here to talk. Sorry.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Yuuta leans back on the pillows, watching Rin put his shirt and jacket on. “Well, see you, then.” 

“Yeah.” Backpack over his shoulder, Rin slips out of the room. The latch clicks behind him.

He arrives back home at 11:14, flicking on the lights and tripping over the clutter as per usual. Opening his fridge, he checks for anything good, but he hasn’t gone grocery shopping recently and the pickings are slim. Once again, the taste of tempura crosses his mind, and Yamazaki’s voice replays: _Anyway, didn’t you say you never got to tell your dad about being gay? He might’ve felt the same as my dad._

Rin slams the fridge door shut. 

Early morning like usual. During prep, Hazuki bounces about the restaurant, rambling about some movie. 

“Oh, and apparently, the actress was dating the actor playing her brother, so that’s super awkward. I never ever want to imagine someone I date in the way I imagine my sisters. Gross! Oh, but—”

Distracted, Hazuki bumps into Rin.

“Oi, watch it!” Rin snaps, jerking back. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Scooting aside and gesturing flamboyantly, Hazuki dips his head. “You may pass first, my liege.” 

“Can you be serious for one minute? Some of us are here to work.” 

Hazuki’s expression shifts. “Rin-chan, are you okay? You seem—” 

“I’d be great if you’d stop fucking around. And stop calling me Rin-chan.” Rin pushes past him for the front windows. He sprays the window with cleaner and wipes it down, letting the squeak of glass speak for him. 

A ka-ching as Hazuki opens his register. 

They open forty-five minutes later, and Rin pastes on a more pleasant persona when customers arrive, but his mind is elsewhere, body moving on habit. During the occasional lull, Hazuki is notably and uncomfortably silent. 

During lunchtime, the front door bell chimes. 

Rin freezes. Makoto stops at the end of the line, flashing him a quick and warm smile. Blinking, Rin pulls himself out of his daze and takes the cash from the girl currently ordering. 

The line moves forward, and within a couple of minutes, Makoto comes up to the register. 

“Hey,” Rin says. “Uh, what are you doing here?” 

“I figured you would be here.” Makoto’s expression is calm, calculated. It’s times like these that Rin really feels Makoto’s height and presence. 

Saving Rin from responding, Hazuki asks, “Are you Rin-chan’s friend? Ooh, or his boyfriend?”

Makoto laughs and shakes his head. “Friend. I couldn’t handle him.” 

“Oi—” 

“I’ll have number twelve with oolong tea,” Makoto interrupts, innocently. 

Flushing with discomfort, Rin types it in. “For here or to go?” 

“For here, thanks.” 

When the transaction is complete, Makoto takes a seat at an open stool seat, checking his phone. 

Fifteen minutes later, one of the cooks places a complete dish on the divider between the kitchen and the front counter, and seeing the order, Rin fills up a cup with ice and oolong tea. Instead of calling out the number, he picks up the tray himself and carries it to Makoto’s seat. 

“Oh, thanks,” Makoto says, putting down his phone. “It smells good!” 

“Yeah.” Rin pauses, watching Makoto blow away a breath of steam. “Uh. Sorry. I know I’ve been avoiding you. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, I just…” 

Makoto exhales, mouth pressing into a small smile. “I just worry about you. Especially after the last time you avoided me.” 

Rin ducks his eyes. “Yeah.”

Several breaths. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry. A lot’s happened, but I can’t really talk about anything.” 

“That’s totally fine. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid me, though.” 

“Yeah.” Rin’s voice softens. “Sorry.” 

Makoto swallows a mouthful and flicks him a smile, chopsticks hovering over the bowl. “You don’t need to keep apologizing. I accept your apology.” He sips his tea and takes another bite, chewing slowly as if mulling over the flavor. “You know, your mom’s cooking is better.” 

Rin smiles. “Thanks.” 

With that, Rin leaves Makoto to finish his meal and goes back to work, breezing through the lunch rush with barely any time to think. When the restaurant quiets some and Rin has a chance to breathe, he busies himself with sweeping the floor. 

Hazuki checks through logs at the counter, flipping through pages and marking things with a pencil. 

Drifting to the counter, Rin slows. His hand curls around the broom handle. “Hey, uh,” he says. 

Hazuki’s head pops up. “Hm?” 

“Sorry about earlier.” 

“Oh!” Hazuki plops his chin in his hands, a smile on his mouth. “Thanks. I figured you were having a bad day or something.” 

Rin scratches the back of his head. “Bad couple of weeks. You know what, scratch that, bad couple of years.” 

Sagely, Hazuki nods and says, “Yeah, that’s how it is sometimes.” 

Rin has nothing to say in response to that, surprised Hazuki isn’t prying more. 

“Well, I hope it gets better soon,” Hazuki says, straightening up. “If you want someone to talk to, I’m here all week.” 

Rin snorts. He resumes sweeping. 

“I’m taking this to mean I _can_ continue calling you Rin-chan, right?” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Hazuki laughs.

They fly through the dinner rush and leave for the night, parting at the station. Once on the train back to his apartment, Rin swallows down the tightness at the back of his throat and opens his messages to his mom. They only interacted minimally at the gala, enough to put on a facade of normalcy, no one touching anything substantial.

Drawing up his courage, Rin types.

**Sorry I’ve been avoidant lately. I’ve been busy and stressed with the merger but I bet you are too, so if there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I’ll do it**

After pressing send, he pockets the phone. 

By the time he arrives back at his apartment, a message waits for him. 

**Thanks for the apology, sweetheart!!! Hmmmmmmmmmmm I’ll think of something to put you to work.**

He laughs, sending a short, ‘Okay’ in response. He showers and clambers into bed with wet hair, chest a little lighter. 

By lunchtime the next day, he receives an update. 

**If you’re free on Friday afternoon, how about we have lunch together at home? You can wash the dishes for me :)**

He agrees, and Friday at 11:28, he stands on the train on the way to his mom’s relatively new apartment, two stops away from his own apartment and their restaurant. Her apartment is tucked into a cute two-story building with only four units, hers on the first floor. To the left of the building sits a palm tree, which looks out of place in this chilly weather. 

Rin rings the doorbell. After a few moments, the latch clicks and his mom opens the door, her hair tucked into a loose sideways ponytail. 

“Hey!” she says. “You don’t need to ring the doorbell, silly. It’s your apartment too.” 

Rin laughs and follows her in, sliding his sneakers into the cubby at the entrance in between two pairs of Gou’s shoes. 

“So, how are things in Shibuya?” his mom asks, sinking into the sofa in the cramped living space. 

“Good, I guess.” Rin takes a cursory glance at the apartment: there are only two bedrooms since his mom moved here after he’d moved out, and Gou’s bedroom door is shut. He sits on the other end of the sofa. “I think I’m friends with my one coworker now.” 

“Oh, good! You can never have too many friends.” 

“How’s Ueno?” 

“Good! Still not really used to how they prepare their dishes, but I’m learning.” 

“Oh, Makoto stopped by to try out Wakana’s food. He said yours was better.” 

“Did he? He’s too sweet.” 

They continue chatting about inconsequential things for a couple of minutes, until the door snaps open, and in comes Gou, backpack on her shoulder. 

“I’m back.” She freezes a second, eyes on Rin, before toeing off her shoes and placing them in the cubby. 

“Welcome home.” Their mom smiles. “How was class?” 

“Good.” Gou pads off to her room in her socks. A click of a door and a thud as she drops her backpack to the ground. 

Rin sits still on the sofa, trapped. His mom says nothing, like how she said nothing about Gou joining them, and waits for Gou to return to the living space without her backpack and jacket. 

“Well, now that we’re all here,” she says, pushing herself to stand up from the sofa. “I’ll go ahead and get cooking so we can eat soon.” 

Neither Rin nor Gou reply, watching her leave them for the kitchen. Eyes on the floor, Gou pulls her hair from its ponytail and redoes it, tightening it. 

Rin clears his throat. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“How’s… school?” 

“Fine. Projects and stuff.” 

“Right. And, uh… how’s working in Omotesando?” 

“Fine. Really busy.”

“Yeah, I bet.” 

Humming of the kitchen faucet. Clattering of dishes. 

Rin stands up from the sofa. “Hey, Mom, why don’t you let me help?” he says, entering the kitchen to find her washing vegetables. “You already cook enough at work.” 

“Oh? You think I can trust you?” 

“Mom.” 

“Alright, alright.” She flicks off water from her hands and places a washed cabbage on a cutting board. She calls, “Gou! Come help your brother!” 

Gou steps in, waiting at the counter for Rin to finish washing his hands before washing hers as well. The two of them get to work without speaking to each other, their mom directing them in what to do from her seat at the table. 

As Gou cuts cabbage with a big knife and Rin grates carrots into shavings into a bowl, their mom says, “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Don’t cut yourselves.” She stands and ducks out of the kitchen.

Gou pauses to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Clacks as she resumes cutting. 

Rin reaches the stub of the carrot and places it in the discards, plucking up a new carrot and placing it to the blades. He stops and looks up. “Um… How are things with Isuzu-san?” 

Whack of the knife. “Fine.” 

“I was just wondering… I mean, considering what happened at the gala.” 

“It’s fine.” 

Sighing, Rin sets the carrot down and places his hand flat on the countertop. “Look, you didn’t even acknowledge that I tried to defend you. Not even a small thank you.” 

“I didn’t _ask_ you to defend me.” 

“Gou, I get it. I know what you’re going through, and I can help, if you’d just talk to—”

“Stop parenting me!” Gou shouts, slamming the knife down. “You’re not Dad! Stop trying to be!” 

Water from the bathroom faucet hums, distantly. 

Rin opens his mouth, ready to snap back, but instead he grits his teeth. “Right,” he mutters. He picks up the carrot and resumes grating, watching the bowl fill with orange. 

Without another word, Gou resumes chopping. 

Footsteps from the living space. “How are we doing in here?” their mom asks, pulling out the chair and sitting down again. “No major injuries?” 

“We’re fine,” Rin says in a low voice, trying to quell his shaking fingers. 

The air hangs stilted and stiff, no one speaking for a minute, the only sounds carrot and cabbage. 

Their mom cuts through the silence. “…Gou? Is something wrong?” 

Rin looks up; a tear tracks down Gou’s cheeks. 

“Sorry, I’m not feeling good,” Gou says, dropping the knife and wiping her face with the back of her hand. “I’m going to go rest.” 

Their mom stands, brow pinched in concern. “Okay, sure. Do you need anything?” 

Gou shakes her head, hurrying out of the room with her hand pressed to her eyes. A slam of a door. Faint sobs make it back to the kitchen, where Rin and his mom are frozen. 

His mom’s eyes turn to him. “Did something happen?” 

He shrugs, clenching his jaw and focusing on the carrots again. 

“Should I go check on her?” 

“I think she wants to be alone.” Rin finishes grating the carrot, placing the stub in the discards. He plucks up a replacement. 

His mom quickly washes her hands and picks up the knife, picking up where Gou left off on the cabbage. 

The apartment quiets, and the two of them sit at the table and eat the hot pot themselves. It’s good, as it always is, and Rin’s mom tries to provide lighthearted conversation, but the fresh vegetables and warm broth are bland on his tongue. 

He washes all the dishes by himself, as promised, and when it’s time to leave, his mom gives him a hug. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard at work,” she says, patting his shoulder. “I know you. Have some fun once in a while.” 

He nods, faking a smile. “Yeah.” He hops down to the entrance and plucks out his sneakers from in between Gou’s shoes. 

Back to his apartment, and with nothing better to do, he tries cleaning the apartment as best he can with all the restaurant stuff crammed inside, sweeping and scrubbing until what’s exposed is spotless. The mess still remains. 

He checks his phone. 

**Yuuta:** **Hey I had a nice time the other night and if you want to hang out again, just let me know**

Without replying, Rin steps into his room and tosses his phone to the bed. He pushes open his closet, studying the contents. His hand reaches for a sheer, shimmery black shirt.

* * *

Sousuke stares at his desktop screen, a cold cup of coffee sat beside him. Four hundred thousand, two hundred and sixty-nine yen. Three hundred and twelve thousand, seven hundred and eighty yen. Nine hundred and fifty thousand, one hundred and eighty yen. 

He blinks to stop his eyes from glazing over and gives his face a little slap. At this rate, he’s facing another late night. For the fifth time this week. 

He restarts reading at the beginning of the graph, willing himself to focus, but it doesn’t work, and by the third row, he’s veering off again. 

A sharp knock at his door. Sousuke jerks up. 

“Yeah?” 

Seijuurou pokes his head in. “Hey, what’s up?” he says, stepping in and shutting the door behind himself. 

“Oh, hey. How was Osaka?” 

“Kinda boring. I didn’t really have much time to do anything other than go to meetings.” Seijuurou smirks and leans back into the door with arms crossed. “But I’m back, and I’m ready to have fun. Momo and I are going out tonight, want to join? We can be three intrepid bachelors having a night on the town.” 

“Sorry, I have too much to do.” 

“Come on. I heard you’ve been locking yourself in here too much lately, so I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Sousuke sighs, scratching the back of his head. He glances at the desktop screen, where the data and numbers look like meaningless scribbles. “Alright, fine.” 

“Nice,” Seijuurou crows, straightening up. “I mostly didn’t want to go with just Momo. He always kills my stride.” 

Sousuke snorts.

“How about we meet downstairs in about fifteen minutes?” 

“Sounds good.” 

When Seijuurou leaves, Sousuke squints at the document for another five minutes, as if trying to cram as much work in before he leaves, but he gives up and flicks off the desktop. 

Seijuurou is the only one there when Sousuke comes downstairs with his phone, wallet, and winter jacket over his suit. They wait another couple minutes for Momo to tumble out of the elevator, tie loose around his neck. 

“Is Isuzu coming?” Sousuke asks as they walk to the station, breath coming out in clouds. 

Seijuurou shakes his head. “She said she’s busy.” 

“Oh.” 

“Hey, it’ll be fun with just us guys!” Seijuurou nudges Sousuke in the shoulder and ruffles Momo’s hair. 

“Stop, Nii-chan,” Momo whines, swatting him away. 

They squish into the train and ride to Shinjuku. Sousuke hates Shinjuku almost as much as he hates Shibuya, especially hates the most confusing, busy station in the entire world. He tails behind Seijuurou, who somehow knows which way to go and which exit to take, and they follow a slow moving pack of people heading out of the station for tall buildings and flashing lights. 

After crossing a couple of streets, they first go eat dinner at a soba place, where they chat about random things. Seijuurou does not ask about the gala, nor does he bring up Isuzu. Faced with a ridiculously expensive beer menu, Sousuke decides to wait for the bar and drinks water instead. 

Once dinner is over, they stop at a Lawson on the way to pregame on shitty cheap drinks. Momo picks out one of the pathetic Horoyoi beers that’s only three percent alcohol, while Sousuke and Seijuurou both pick Strong Zero nine percents. They stand out on the sidewalk to drink them, the freshly refrigerated can and the cold weather numbing Sousuke’s bare hands. 

Once they’ve finished drinking, they takes a few turns down the streets, Momo already increasing in volume with the tiny amount of alcohol in his system. 

“Here we are,” Seijuurou says, hopping down dark narrow stairs into an underground bar. Momo follows, and Sousuke after. He nearly hits his head on the shallow ceiling. 

The bar itself is quaint and cramped, blue and green lights low and cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. There’s already a decent crowd of people along the main bar and separate little tables, drinking and smoking and talking. 

“What can I get for you?” the bartender says to Seijuurou. 

The three of them buy their entry drinks and wait for them at the other end of the bar. Seijuurou’s drink comes out first, and taking a sip, he smiles apologetically. 

“No offense, but I think I’m gonna work solo,” he says, winking. He sips again and ambles over to two girls in conversation, easily introducing himself and joining the conversation without it seeming intrusive. 

Momo slouches. “I hate Nii-chan,” he grumbles, trying to smoothe back his wily hair, only for it to bounce back to its wildness. The bartender drops off his drink. Momo gulps the whole thing down without stopping and slams down the empty glass. “Fine, I’ll show him I can be just as good solo too!” 

Sousuke does nothing to stop Momo from approaching some random girl, who clearly is there with the guy beside her. He can’t hear the conversation, but from the girl gesturing to the guy beside her and Momo’s immediate droop into dejection, he figures it doesn’t go well for Momo. 

Sousuke’s drink arrives. He settles at an empty stool tucked away from the clusters of people, shouldering off his winter jacket and loosening his tie. Not feeling anything from his first drink, he nurses the second one more slowly. From here, he can watch Momo helplessly dart around and order more drinks. _I should probably tell him to slow down._

Sousuke gradually drains his drink, playing with the glass when it’s empty. The glass refracts calm blue and green light. 

Someone slides into the seat beside him. He glances—a woman with shiny brown hair and deep brown eyes in a backless black dress. She flicks him a small smile, her features sharply pretty, and Sousuke’s mouth twitches out of politeness. He turns his eyes down to the glass again. 

The woman orders something and slowly drinks it, the murmur of conversation and clinking drinks filling the air. Readjusting in his seat, Sousuke plucks his phone from his pocket for something to do, but he has nothing but boring work emails to check. 

A click of the woman’s purse. Sousuke looks up from his phone to see her offering him a cigarette. 

“Oh,” he says, placing his phone down and taking the cigarette. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” she says, smiling again. She holds up her lighter, another offer, and with the cigarette between his lips, Sousuke leans down and lets her light it. He perfume fills his nose. 

Cigarette lit, he straightens up and takes a drag, watching the smoke drift away from him. She lights a cigarette for herself. 

More quiet, inhaling and exhaling. 

The woman leans into her elbow and cocks her head toward him. “What’s your name?”

Sousuke exhales before answering. “Sousuke. You?”

“Yui.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering out a hand. 

With a confused laugh, she shakes his hand. “So formal.” 

He laughs too, embarrassed, and taps off ash into the ashtray sat in front of them. 

“Are you here with someone?” 

“No. I mean—I’m here with my two friends, but I’m not here _with_ someone.” 

“I got you. Neither am I.” 

He nods, bringing the cigarette to his mouth again.

A pause, the both of them looking forward and smoking on their own rhythms. Sousuke knows this is his turn to ask questions, but there’s nothing he wants to ask. Putting out her cigarette, Yui plucks out a compact mirror to touch up on her lipstick, pursing and rolling her lips. 

Click of the compact mirror. Rustles of the inside of her purse. 

As Sousuke finishes his cigarette, Yui drains the last of her drink, leaving only ice behind. She sets it down on the bar and stands. She smiles. “Well, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” he says, putting out his cigarette. He doesn’t bother watching her go. 

Sousuke remains sitting and orders another couple of drinks, his face warming and his grip on reality lessening, voices foggy and distant around him. He takes another sip of his drink, disappointed to find out it’s the last one, when someone barrels into him. 

“Sousuke-senpai,” moans Momo, barely holding himself upright with a tight grip on Sousuke’s shoulder. “How do I get girls to like me?” 

Sousuke sets his glass down. “How the hell should I know?” 

“Girls like you! Teach me, please! Please, please, please, please?” 

“I can’t teach you that. Everyone’s different. I promise, someday a girl will like you.” 

“ _Someday?_ I don’t want a girl to like me _someday,_ I want a girl to like me _now!_ ” 

Sousuke sighs and pats him on the shoulder. 

Momo yanks on his arm. “Come on, help me!” 

“Uh, I don’t—”

Momo drags him toward a couple of random girls who do not seem pleased to have their conversation interrupted, and Sousuke remains mostly quiet throughout the forced interaction, feeling discomfort for intruding and little interest in talking to them. 

While being held hostage, Sousuke spots Yui talking to some other guy across the bar. She laughs at something the guy says, teasingly hitting him on the shoulder. Sousuke knows he should feels disappointment, _something._ Nothing. 

Seijuurou continues to do well with one of the girls, while the two girls abandon Momo and Sousuke for opposing reasons: Momo is too talkative, Sousuke not enough. 

“Ugh.” Momo wilts. “Why’d that go so badly? Why didn’t you do anything?” 

“Don’t know.” Sousuke polishes his drink off. Cigarette smoke fills his head, making him lightheaded. He checks his watch. “Hey, I think I’m going to head off.” 

“What? No, you can’t leave me with Nii-chan! At least stay until the last train! Please? Please, please, please?” 

Sousuke grimaces. “I hate how crowded the last train is.”

“All the trains will be crowded right now! Please, stay!” 

“Sorry.” Sousuke sets his empty glass down and puts on his winter jacket. With a quick smile, he ruffles Momo’s hair. “See you Monday.” 

“You suck, Sousuke-senpai.” 

He laughs. After saying goodbye to Seijuurou and again to Momo, he climbs up the dark staircase. Sharp cold hits him at the top, and he zips up his jacket and puts his hands in the pockets, wishing he had gloves. People wander and relax on the streets, drinking, talking, drifting from bars and clubs. He looks down the street and back the other way. During the stops along the way, he lost his sense of where the station is. 

Visualizing the direction they came from, he walks, occasional cars and taxis spreading white light on the street. The further he goes, the less he remembers, unsure whether that particular Lawson is the same Lawson as before or a different Lawson. 

Packed bars and club music thumping. Up ahead, two guys hold hands. On signs and windows are unmistakable rainbow flags and icons, informing Sousuke he has managed to wander into Ni-Chome. 

A noisy club pops up on his left named DRAGON, a huge glowing advertisement sat out front of a muscular guy wearing nothing but tight, short boxers. 

Sousuke averts his eyes. He turns down a street. 

A taxi approaches down the single lane road, so Sousuke presses to the shoulder and walks past another club thundering with music. Its door opens and people exit, bursts of light escaping. They must step over some guy passed out at the entrance, his arm draped over his face, the bouncer bent over him. 

“Sir?” says the bouncer. “Excuse me, sir? You can’t lie here.” 

The guy groans and shifts, lowering his arm. Sousuke halts. 

“Please, sir, other patrons are trying to enter. If you need medical assistance, I can call for an ambulance—” 

Sousuke hurries over, crouching down. “Oi, Matsuoka.” 

Groaning again, Matsuoka squints at him and slurs, “Fuck _off,_ Yamazaki.” 

Relieved Matsuoka’s still coherent enough to hate his guts, Sousuke slides Matsuoka’s arm over his shoulder and hauls him up. “Sorry,” he says to the bouncer, stumbling with Matsuoka’s limp weight into his side. 

He gets a couple of steps out of the way of the club entrance before Matsuoka jerks back. 

“Let me _go,_ ” he growls, shoving Sousuke. He teeters on unsteady legs, his face flushed. He’s wearing an army jacket over a sheer black shirt, a silver necklace dangling between his pecs, and tight leather jeans. “I don’t want your fucking help.” 

“Are you okay? Is someone here with you?”

“I’m _fine,_ and no, it’s just me, but you can go fuck off to—”  

Like a light switch, Matsuoka’s expression flips, face paling. A beat of silence, and he turns to the pavement, vomiting. 

Sousuke jumps in, holding Matsuoka’s hair out of the way, and Matsuoka, too consumed with expelling his insides out, does nothing to stop him. After a minute or two, Matsuoka heaves and nothing comes out. He groans and wipes the back of his mouth, wobbling as he straightens up. 

Once again, Sousuke puts Matsuoka’s arm around his shoulders and holds him up, but this time, Matsuoka is too noodley to do anything other than follow along. “Here,” Sousuke says. “I’ll get you a taxi.” 

“No,” says Matsuoka. “No taxi. Too expensive.” 

“I’ll pay.” 

“No!” 

“It’s no problem—” 

“No! I’d rather _die_ than owe you money.” 

Sousuke exhales sharply. “Jeez.” A taxi passes, and he and Matsuoka cross a street. “Here, I’ll at least get you some water or something.” 

They stop at a vending machine, where Sousuke awkwardly buys two water bottles with one hand, the other hand around Matsuoka’s side. Silently, Matsuoka accepts the water bottle and downs half of it in one go. Sousuke doesn’t open the second water bottle, keeping it in hand for safekeeping. 

“If you won’t take a taxi, at least let me help you to the station,” Sousuke says. “I was on my way there, anyway.” 

Scowling, Matsuoka fumbles with the cap of the now almost empty water bottle. “Fine,” he mumbles.

They head down the street, Matsuoka stumbling and swerving, and reach a crosswalk glowing red.

Matsuoka blinks, eyes darting around. He points a finger opposite Sousuke’s trajectory. “The station is that way.” 

“I know that,” Sousuke retorts, prickling with embarrassment. He pretends he stopped to take a drink of water from his water bottle, and changes his course to follow where Matsuoka pointed. 

They walk for a while in silence, much slower than Sousuke would without Matsuoka’s entire weight in his side. 

“I didn’t eat dinner,” Matsuoka blurts as they pass a girls’ club. “Maybe—Maybe that’s why I threw up.” 

“You think?”

Matsuoka hums. “The guy I was dancing with ditched me once I started throwing up.” 

Sousuke says nothing, leading Matsuoka past a group of rowdy guys drinking and smoking on the sidewalk. Down the street is a late-night takeout takoyaki place, sign glowing red. 

“Are you hungry?” Sousuke asks, slowing at the takoyaki place. “You’re not going to throw up again, are you?” 

Matsuoka shakes his head. “I don’t feel sick anymore. I already threw up three times.”

“Jeez.” Sousuke guides Matsuoka over to the counter. “You should probably try to get something other than alcohol in your system.”

“Hello, what can I get for you?” asks the guy at the cash register. 

“Two regular sets.” 

The guy punches it in. “That’ll be one thousand, six hundred and forty yen.” 

Sousuke fishes for his wallet and places down two one thousand yen bills. Matsuoka snatches one of the bills up, replaces it with a one thousand bill from his own wallet, and slaps the other bill to Sousuke’s chest with a glare. 

When the guy hands back the change, Sousuke splits it evenly with Matsuoka. 

They only wait a couple of minutes before the guy places two identical cartons of six piping hot takoyaki balls before them. Matsuoka manages to pick up his own, but Sousuke still has to lug him to the bench sat in front of the shop.

Awkwardly, they sit, Sousuke freed from his burden for a moment and Matsuoka oozing into the bench like he has no bones. Pulling apart his chopsticks, Sousuke slices a takoyaki ball down the middle, steam rising up while sauce drips into the gooey inside. He blows on it, steam fluttering away. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Matsuoka whimpers. When Sousuke looks up, Matsuoka’s face is red, eyes watering, hand placed over his mouth. 

Sousuke frowns. “Uh—You’re not… crying?” 

Matsuoka shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing as he chews and swallows. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, visible steam escaping from his lips. He snatches up Sousuke’s water bottle and gulps down half of it. “ _Fuck,_ why are they so hot? I think—I think I burned off my tongue.” 

Doing his best to keep his expression neutral with a smirk creeping over, Sousuke says, “That’s why you’re supposed to wait before eating.” 

“I _know._ ” Matsuoka wipes his eyes, smearing black eye makeup. Frowning, he sticks out his tongue as if testing it. “Oh no, what if I can’t ever taste again?” 

“Not my problem.” 

“I’m blaming _you._ You bought these.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not a five-year-old who can’t wait for them to cool down.” To prove his point, Sousuke plops one of the now cooled takoyaki balls in his mouth as if he hadn’t burned his tongue on takoyaki just last month while completely sober. 

Matsuoka glowers, stabbing one of the balls with a chopstick. 

They go silent again as they eat, Matsuoka draining Sousuke’s entire water within a couple minutes. 

When their cartons are empty, Matsuoka smacks his lips. “I really think I burned off my tastebuds,” he says, forehead creasing. “What if I really _can’t_ taste again? Ever? I have to live the rest of my life without being able to taste anything, and it’s all because _you_ bought me takoyaki—” 

“Jeez, relax,” Sousuke says, taking Matsuoka’s carton and chopsticks. He stands and drops them along with his own in the combustibles bin. “Haven’t you ever burned your tongue before? It’ll go away in a day or two.” 

“Yeah, but never _this_ bad before!” Matsuoka sniffs. “I won’t be able to taste the wedding cake at Gou’s wedding.” 

“Why is your first thought about your _sister’s_ wedding?” 

“You would get it if you had a younger sibling!” 

“How do you know I don’t?” 

Matsuoka narrows his eyes. “…do you?”

“Nah, I don’t.” 

Rolling his eyes, Matsuoka tries to stand up from the bench, wobbling dangerously. He does not complain when Sousuke swoops in to support him. They resume walking down the sidewalk, and with a glance to his watch, Sousuke figures they can make one of the last couple of trains. 

“Wait,” Matsuoka says as they stop at a crosswalk. “Isn’t that other guy your brother? The… The quiet one.” 

“Nanase? I mean, legally. He’s my step-brother, but I didn’t even meet him until I was eighteen, so we’re not close. And he’s two years older than me, so he wouldn’t count as a younger sibling.” 

The walk sign turns green. 

Matsuoka nods, a step behind Sousuke. “You never mentioned any siblings on _Soul Only,_ so I assumed you didn’t have any.” 

Sousuke does not respond, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. 

The streets grow more crowded and bright near the station, neither of them bothering to speak over the din of noise, constantly battered with people hurrying to the station entrances. Matsuoka remains pressed to Sousuke’s side. 

They manage down the steps into the station with the swarm around them, and once they swipe through the ticket gates, Sousuke scans the signs for the different platforms. “Which one’s yours?” he aks, slowing in the rush of people. 

Matsuoka pushes him away, returning to his own feet. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to escort me.” 

“Look, you didn’t want a taxi and you’re still not in any place to be walking by yourself, so—” 

A passing businessman bumps into Matsuoka. Matsuoka loses his balance and drops to the ground. 

Sousuke helps Matsuoka up and repeats, “Which train’s yours?” 

They board the platform for the last train of Matsuoka’s line. Sousuke checks his watch, his leaving the bar early for the express purpose of not being on the last train feeling like lifetimes ago. 

The train rushes in, Matsuoka’s hair tickling Sousuke’s neck with the whoosh of air. 

Once they enter, they’re squished in tight enough that Sousuke no longer needs to hold Matsuoka up with barely any room between them and the next forty other people. The train slows at the next stop, Matsuoka’s weight falling into him. 

Five stops later, Matsuoka says, “Next one.” At the stop, they awkwardly squeeze past the other people, mumbling apologies, and hop out onto the platform. Down into the station and out the gate Matsuoka says to take, they step into chilly air, streets hazy under glowing signs and streetlights. Sousuke observes the layout as they walk, thinking in silence, now used to his arm around Matsuoka’s back. 

“Wait,” he says, image popping up in his mind, “isn’t this near your restaurant?” 

“Yeah. I found an apartment nearby so I wouldn’t have to commute.” 

Their footsteps echo, the streets quieter and more empty the farther they walk from the station. Rattles as someone pulls down the gate over a shop front, locking it up for the night. 

“I don’t actually drink,” Matsuoka announces to the air. “I haven’t since my first year of college, and I never drank that much anyway, so I guess I might not know my limits.” 

Sousuke snorts. “Maybe.” A thought hits him. “Wait, you went to college? I thought you’ve been working for your family since high school.”

“Yeah, I went to college. I majored in chemistry.” 

“Ah. That explains a lot.” 

Matsuoka wrinkles his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, nothing, just that you seem like the kind of person who would do well in something like chemistry.” 

“Hm.” Ignoring that, Matsuoka continues, “But I dropped out after my first year, so. I’m a dropout.” 

“Oh. Why?” 

“That’s when my dad died,” Matsuoka says, matter of factly, “and my mom wasn’t in a place to be working and Gou was about to enter college and we couldn’t have afforded both of us being in school, so yeah. I dropped out.” 

“…Oh.” 

A swift wind swirls through. Matsuoka’s arm tightens around Sousuke’s shoulders. 

Silence persists until Matsuoka points at a small apartment complex. “Here.” He yawns. 

Sousuke helps him up the stairs to the third floor. The inside of the apartment is dark, and Sousuke is about to say farewell and turn back when Matsuoka yelps and trips. 

Sousuke helps him up, and eyes adjusting to the dark, he sees the tiny hallway and living space are filled to the brim with boxes and furniture. “Huh,” he says, hand on Matsuoka’s elbow. 

Matsuoka kicks off his shoes and leaves them where they land in the entrance way. “This isn’t all mine, it’s from our restaurant. Storage units are too expensive.” 

Wordlessly, Sousuke takes off his own shoes to trail Matsuoka into the apartment with a guiding hand, taking in the chaos encroaching on the kitchen and the single bedroom. Matsuoka enters the bedroom with a sigh and leaves the door open, tearing off his jacket and tossing his shirt to the floor. 

When Matsuoka’s hands reach for the zipper of his leather jeans, Sousuke steps back. “Oh—I’ll just—Sorry—” He slams the door shut. Hand on the door handle, he stares at the floor, pulse in his ears. Reorganizing his thoughts, he raps on the door. “Oi, prop your torso up!” he calls. “If you throw up again, I don’t want you choking to death on my conscience.” 

An unenthusiastic grunt from Matsuoka. 

Exhaling, Sousuke inches back toward the kitchen, knocking over a box and wincing at the crash. He checks his watch. Last train long gone, he has until around four thirty until the trains pick up again. He could walk back through the cold wait it out at a Matsuya or a McDonalds, finding some sleep at a table. Or, he could catch some sleep here and leave in time to catch the first train. Figuring Matsuoka probably won’t be awake for a long time, Sousuke clambers through the mess to sit at the stool by the kitchen counter. He sets four alarms for a few hours from now, pulls off his tie, and rests his head on his arms. 

The first alarm wrenches him from comfortable, dreamless sleep. On instinct, he switches it off, repeating that for the second and third alarms before reluctantly rousing himself on the fourth. The apartment is silent, dark, and still half asleep, Sousuke tiptoes to the bedroom. Cracking open the door as quietly as he can, he checks Matsuoka is still alive. Matsuoka is, sprawled out and snoring with his hair splattered over the pillow. 

Sousuke shuts the door and creeps back, pausing at the entryway. Matsuoka’s shoes are neatly organized by the door with the exception of the pair Matsuoka carelessly tossed last night. 

Sousuke stares at his own shoes. 

He doesn’t put them on, instead going back in and searching around for a scrap of paper and a pen. Stopping at the kitchen counter, he pulls out his wallet and places down some yen bills. He scrawls out a note. 

_For a storage unit._

At the entryway, Sousuke moves Matsuoka’s shoes from last night, placing them in line with Matsuoka’s other shoes. He slips on his own shoes and leaves. 

Sousuke walks back to the station and rides the train back home in a daze, yesterday feeling like a hallucination, and as he walks the streets of Kichijoji back to his apartment, the sun rises. Warm orange light sneaks in between buildings. 

Without washing his face, brushing his teeth, or changing out of his suit, Sousuke passes out and doesn’t wake up until 3:29 that afternoon. Disoriented, Sousuke checks his phone. According to Momo’s nine hundred texts, he and Seijuurou went to a club after the bar and stayed out the whole night, but in spite of this, according to screenshots from Isuzu, Seijuurou still posted gym selfies on Instagram early this morning captioned, _Rise and grind! ;)_

Work emails, more work emails. 

Sousuke’s pulse quickens. **_Sakura_ ** **has sent you a message!**

Wide awake, Sousuke sits up and opens _Soul Only_ for the first time in a long time. 

**Sakura:** **Hey I don’t really remember much of last night but I wanted to thank you for your help. I owe you**

Sousuke’s fingers shake as he types.

**Negi:** **Don’t worry about it**

**Negi:** **How are you feeling?**

**Sakura:** **Aside from the shit hangover, the roof of my mouth is all torn up and painful from that takoyaki. It hurts to swallow**

**Sakura:** **Don’t even think of making a joke about swallowing**

**Negi:** **I wasn’t going to**

**Negi:** **Not all of us are pervs**

**Sakura:** **Fuck off**

**Sakura:** **Anyway I’m still alive, so that’s good**

**Sakura:** **Oh thanks for the money for the storage unit too, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can**

**Negi:** **Don’t worry about it**

**Sakura:** **I’m going to pay you back, so you don’t need to keep up the selfless act**

**Negi:** **Fine. We can discuss it**

Sakura—Matsuoka—doesn’t reply, so Sousuke sets his phone aside. He showers, brushes his teeth, shaves, and begins making breakfast, or rather, dinner. 

 _He’s more selfless than I am,_ he thinks. The thought surprises him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once i burned my mouth so badly on takoyaki i couldn't swallow without pain for 5 days. unfortunately i was completely sober so that means i'm just a dumbass
> 
> [purple hearts - jeremy messersmith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0rctNANAy4&list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m&index=8&t=0s)
> 
> [full playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLN7pGL0OKYOccHjUSKB37_NwVwhy12x8m)
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/bronii_chan)


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